THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


* 


Clinton  as  a  Clerk,  — chap.  XI. 


CLINTON  FORREST : 


OB, 


THE  POWER  OF  KINDNESS. 


A  STOEY  FOR  THE  HOME  CIRCLE. 


BY 

MISS   MINNIE   S.  DAVIS. 


BOSTON: 
BENTON  SMITH,  AGENT, 

37    COUNHILL, 

1808. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  by 

TOMPKINS  AND  COMPANY, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


?s 


PREFACE. 


ENCOUEAGED  by  the  kindly  welcome  which 
greeted  "Marion  Lester,"  and  in  compliance 
with  the  wishes  of  her  friends,  the  author  here 
presents  an  earlier  work,  —  the  first  continuous 
effort  of  her  pen.  She  has  reviewed  it  with 
care ;  and,  though  conscious  that  it  is  still  im 
perfect,  she  hopes  it  may  not  prove  wholly 
unacceptable. 

Though  the  author  gathered  the  materials  for 
her  story  only  in  the  realms  of  imagination,  she 
believes  there  is  nothing  in  it  untrue  to  nature. 
Doubtless  many  will  be  able  to  point  out  the 
living  counterparts  of  some  of  the  characters 
here  portrayed. 

Dear  reader,  are  you  seeking  a  "  sensation 
novel,"  gorgeously  colored,  with  intricate  plot 
and  startling  denouement  ?  —  then  lay  this  little 
book  aside ;  it  is  not  for  you.  But  if  you  wish 

136748.T 


IV  PREFACE. 

to  find  truth  guiding  the  hand  of  fancy,  —  if 
you  love  a  simple,  home  story,  developing  such 
characters  as  would  bless  and  beautify  that 
spot  where  all  the  holiest  affections  of  the  heart 
are  centred,  —  perchance  you  may  find  pleasure 
in  perusing  theso  pages. 

MINNIE  S.  DAVIS. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAG, 

CHILDISH  CHARACTER, 7 

CHAPTER    II. 

HOME  INFLUENCE 14 

CHAPTER    III. 

THE   POWER   OF  KINDNESS,        25 

CHAPTER   IV. 
THE  ORPHAN'S  THANKSGIVING 33 

CHAPTER   V. 

SCHOOL   SCENES, 41 

CHAPTER   VI. 
PLANS  FOR  CLINTON'S  IMPROVEMENT, 61 

CHAPTER   VII. 

FOKESHADOWINGS 62 

CHAPTER    VIII. 

BEREAVEMENT,        73 

CHAPTER    IX. 

NEW-COMERS, 76 

CHAPTER   X. 

CHANGES, 86 

CHAPTER    XI. 

THE   FORTUNES   OP   CLINTON 104 

CHAPTER   XII. 

NEW   DEVELOPMENTS 123 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

EXPLANATIONS   AND   DISCOVERIES, 131 

CHAPTER    XIV. 

SORROW.  —  NEW   PLANS,        144 


VI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XV. 

NEW  FRIENDS   AND   A  NEW   HOME, 119 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

VARIOUS   OPINIONS,        .*    .     .  164 

CHAPTER    XVII. 

WELCOME   HOME 170 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

AN   OLD   FRIEND  APPEARS   UPON   THE   STAGE, 185 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE  BROKEN   IDOL,        191 

CHAPTER    XX. 

COMFORT, 197 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

A  WANDERER   FOUND, 201 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

LOVE. HOPE  FOR  THE  FALLEN, 210 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 
ELMINA'S  MISSION, 217 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 

OUR  HERO   BROUGHT  TO   HIS   SENSES, 223 

CHAPTER   XXV. 
HAPPINESS.  —  LAURETTA'S  PRIDE, 229 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

UNCLE  IKE   IN    A   DILEMHA, 238 

CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE  BRIDAL, 242 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

LAURETTA, 250 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 

CONCLUSION,       ,  254 


CHAPTER   I. 

CHILDISH    CHARACTER. 

"  WHAT  a  naughty  thing  Clint  Forrest  is !  He  is 
the  worst  boy  in  school.  Just  hear  how  wickedly  he 
talks." 

u  0,  Dora!  I  am  sure  he  is  not  as  bad  as  those 
great  boys  who  vex  him  so.  Everybody  tries  to 
plague  poor  Clint !  " 

"But  just  see,  Mina;  hois  kicking  John  Carter 
with  all  his  might ;  he  is  mad  enough  to  tear  him  in 
pieces.  He  has  got  a  dreadful  temper, —  you  can't 
dispute  that?  " 

"I  know  ho  acts  very  badly:  but  he  hasn't  any 
father  or  mother  to  teach  him.  I  almost  cry  when.  I 
think  that  he  ha$  nobody  to  love  him.  The  boys 
always  blame  him  for  everything  ;  and  I  don't  believe 
he  'd  hurt  any  one  if  they  didn't  provoke  him  to  it." 

"  Perhaps  he  wouldn't,  Mina.  I  didn't  think  any 
thing  about  his  having  no  father  and  mother.  »  Poor 
Clint !  " 

The  group  of  quarrelsome  boys,  which  the  children 
were  passing,  now  dispersed,  and  they  soon  forgot 
them.  The  little  maidens  were  on  their  way  to 
school,  and  not  a  wild  flower  on  the  roadside  escaped 
their  eager  grasp.;  for  they  must  all  be  presented  as 
a  love-token  to  their  teacher.  A  childish  though 
beautiful  friendship  existed  between  the  little  ones, 

(7) 


8  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

which  had  never  been  marred  by  the  least  difference 
or  coldness.  They  had  been  together  daily  from  in 
fancy,  and  no  sisters  ever  loved  each  other  better. 

Dora  May  lived  with  her  widowed  mother  in  the  ' 
pretty  cottage  close  to  Dr.  Clement's  fine  mansion. 
She  was  the  love  and  pride  of  that  mother's  heart. 
And  well  she  might  be,  for  the  gay,  spirited  Dora 
won  all  hearts  by  her  sweet  vivacity  of  manner. 
Though  six  months  older  than  Elmina  Clement,  she 
appeared  more  than  that  younger.  Her  tiny  figure 
seemed  quite  babyish  beside  Elmina' s  elegant  form. 
Her  beautiful  hazel  eye  beamed  with  a  happy  light. 
One  could  not  look  upon  her  sunny  face  without  a 
thrill  of  pleasure.  The  little  friends  usually  acted  in 
concert ;  but  Elmina' s  was  the  guiding  spirit.  El 
mina  possessed  a  maturity  of  mind,  a  precocity  of  in 
tellect,  rarely  found  in  a  child  of  seven  years.  So 
unconscious  was  she  of  this,  that  it  did  not  destroy 
the  childishness  so  beautiful  in  childhood.  Though 
she  was  caressed  and  petted  much,  she  was  not 
spoiled;  that  the  judicious  care  of  her  mother  had 
prevented. 

Very  happily  did  they  ramble  on  their  way.  Dora 
had  given  Mina  all  her  flowers,  that  there  might  be 
one  large  bouquet.  Elmina  accepted  them,  saying 
she  would  tell  Miss  Morris  that  Dora  had  gathered 
half  of  them. 

Just  then  a  boy.  about  nine  years  old,  came  run 
ning  by  them.  "  There  is  Clint,"  said  Dora;  "  won 
der  if  he  has  got  over  his  passion?  " 

The  boy  heard  what  she  said,  and  turned  back 
spitefully. 

"  You  wonder  if  Clint  has  got  over  his  passion,  do 
you  ?  I  am  never  going  to  get  over  it.  I  shall  keep 
in  a  passion  all  the  time.  Everybody  hates  me,  and 
I  'm  sure  I  hate  everybody." 


CUILDISH    CHARACTER.  9 

"0,  Clint,  you  ought  not  to  say  that !  It  is  very 
wrong,"  said  Mina. 

"It  is  very  wrong ! "  he  repeated,  mockingly 
"  0,  don't  I  wish  I  was  a  little  lady,  and  had  long, 
black  curls  !  How  smart  I  should  feel,  wearing  my 
pink  muslin  frock  and  white  apron,  and  telling  folks 
that  didn't  care  about  anything  or  anybody,  that 
they  were  very  wrong  !  " 

"  Do  go  away,  you  disagreeable  boy  !  "  cried  Dora. 

"  You  are  vastly  mistaken  if  you  think  I'll  go  at 
your  order,  miss."  Clint  observed  that  Elmina  car 
ried  her  flowers  very  carefully,  and  snatched  them 
from  her,  throwing  them  upon  the  ground,  and  tread 
ing  them  into  the  damp  earth.  She  stood  for  a 
moment  silent  with  astonishment,  then  burst  into 
tears.  "0,  you  want  your  flowers.,  do  you.  you  dear 
little  cry-baby?  Here,  take  'em  an'  welcome."  So 
saying,  he  gathered  up  the  soiled  and  broken  flowers, 
with  a  handful  of  mud,  and  threw  them  upon  her  neat 
dress. 

"  Clint  Forrest,  you  are  the  worst  boy  in  the 
world  !  I  don't  wonder  everybody  hates  you,"  cried 
the  indignant  Dora. 

"  Don't  think  you  've  told  me  any  news,  for  I  knew 
it  all  before."  With  a  loud  laugh  he  turned  towards 
the  school-house.  0,  what  a  laugh  for  a  child  like 
him  !  It  told  of  a  heart  barren  of  all  the  sweet  affec 
tions  which  love  and  kindness  foster.  It  told  fearfully 
of  the  neglect  of  that  young  immortal.  Child  as  he 
was,  his  heart  was  incrusted  with  bitterness  and  dis 
trust.  But  down  deep  in  that  little  heart  were 
springs  capable  of  vibrating  to  the  purest  and  holiest 
emotions.  Of  their  existence  the  boy  himself  was 
ignorant.  They  had  never  been  sought  for. 

This  last  rude  act  seemed  very  cruel  and  uncalled 
for  to  Elmina,  when  she  felt  so  much  kindness  towards 


10  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

him,  and  had  expressed  it  so  warmly.  The  sensitive 
child  sobbed  convulsively,  while  Dora  vented  her  feel 
ings  in  the  use  of  all  the  angry  expletives  she  could 
command. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  sis?  "  cried  a  pleasant  voice, 
and  Elmina's  brother  Frank  put  his  arm  kindly  about 
the  little  girl.  "What  is  it,  dear  Mina?"  he  re 
peated.  "  You  don't  often  cry  like  this.  What  has 
happened,  darling?"  She  could  not  speak,  though 
she  strove  to  suppress  her  sobbing. 

Dora  told  the  story  with  flashing  eyes,  and  in  so 
spirited  a  manner,  that  Frank  supposed  it  much  worse 
than  it  really  was  He  was  as  much  displeased  as 
Dora  could  wish  him  to  be.  He  soothed  his  little 
sister  with  true  brotherly  kindness,  and,  when  the 
school-bell  rung,  her  tears  were  wiped  away,  and  she 
was  trying  to  smile.  "  Don't  go  into  school  now, 
with  your  red  eyes.  Mina.  You  and  Dora  go  down 
to  the  brook  and  bathe  your  face.  Wait  till  you  are 
smiling  and  cheerful,  and  I  will  excuse  you  to  the 
teacher."  As  soon  as  the  little  girls  were  out  of 
hearing,  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  The  young  scamp  ! 
to  think  of  his  hurting  iny  sister  !  I  suppose  he  '11 
vex  sweet  little  Dora  next.  Miss  Morris  shall  know 
it ;  and  I  hope  she  :11  punish  him  severely.  I  'd  like 
to  train  him  for  one  week  !  " 

The  two  children  passed  down  a  narrow  path,  lead 
ing  behind  the  school-house,  to  the  place  where  a 
rivulet  babbled  over  shining  pebbles  and  glistening 
sand.  The  banks  were  high  on  both  sides,  except 
where  a  large  shelving  rock  rose  a  few  rods  from  the 
water.  A  spreading  willow  shaded  the  spot.  'In 
summer  it  was  a  very  inviting  place,  both  for  its  cool 
ness  and  rude  beauty.  This  was  Dora's  and  Elmina's 
favorite  retreat.  Here  they  brought  their  toys  and 
books,' and  played  many  happy  hours.  Sometimes 


CHILDISH    CHARACTER.  11 

Frank  came  and  read  stories  to  them,  or  brought  hig 
hook  and  line  and  caught  the  tiny  fishes  that  sported 
in  the  water.  They  were  so  happy  here,  and  loved 
the  place  so  well,  that  Frank  had  christened  it 
"Happy  Nook."  The  other  school  children  did  not 
often  molest  them  in  their  Happy  Nook  ;  for  most  of 
them  preferred  rude  and  noisy  games  to  the  quiet 
amusements  that  delighted  our  little  friends. 

To  this  pretty  spot  the  children  now  turned  their 
steps.  After  Elmina  had  bathed  her  heated  brow 
and  swollen  eyes  in  the  cool  water,  they  seated  them 
selves  upon  the  rock,  their  arms  thrown  lovingly  about 
each  other.  "I  thought  I  should  try  to  love  that 
rude  Clint  Forrest,"  said  Dora;  "  but  I  don't  want 
to  love  him  now ;  he  has  so  abused  you,  dear  Mina." 

"  I  shall  love  him  just  as  much  as  ever,"  replied 
Elmina.  "I  was  not  angry  with  him,  only  very 
sorry." 

"I  shouldn't  think  you  would  care  much  about 
him,  after  he  has  mocked  you,  and  called  you  proud, 
and  spoiled  your  flowers,  and  all  that.  If  Frank  tells 
Miss  Morris,  he  '11  get  whipped  for  it.  Don't  you 
recollect  that,  when  he  pushed  Lizzie  French  down 
yesterday,  and  made  her  cut  her  lip,  she  said  she  'd 
whip  him  the  very  next  time  he  quarrelled  with  any 
body,  or  hurt  any  one?  " 

"  So  she  did,  Dora.  0,  I  hope  Frank  hasn't  told 
her !  I  don't  want  Clint  to  be  whipped ;  for  lie 
did  n't  hurt  me  any.  Come,  let  us  hurry,  Dora,  so 
tli;it  we  can  tell  her  that,  if  Frank  has  told  her  about 
it." 

Dora's  sympathies  were  aroused,  and  the  two  chil 
dren  hastened  to  the  school-room.  When  they 
entered,  they  instantly  perceived  they  were  too  late 
to  save  the  little  urchin  from  his  threatened  punish 
ment.  He  had  already  been  chastised,  and  stood 


12  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

before  his  teacher  with  a  stubborn  and  determined 
expression  on  his  face.  His  eyes  were  filled  with  the 
tears  which  he  was  too  proud  to  let  fall. 

"I  hope  you  understand  me  now,  Clinton,"  said 
Miss  Morris,  in  a  cold,  stern  voice.  "  Take  your 
seat,  and  remember  this  day's  lesson." 

The  boy  took  his  seat,  muttering,  "  I  wish  I  had 
hurt  her  !  I  wish  I  'd  half  killed  her  !  " 

Miss  Morris  turned,  and  saw  the  children  standing 
near,  with  flushed  and  excited  faces.  She  placed  her 
hand  caressingly  upon  Elmina's  head,  and  asked,  in  a 
kind  voice,  if  Clint  had  hurt  her  much.  Elmina 
did  not  reply  to  the  question,  but  raised  her  eyes  with 
a  reproachful  look  to  her  teacher's  face,  and  said, 
"  Did  you  punish  Clinton  because  he  vexed  ine  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear.  I  was  very  sorry  to  be  obliged  to 
do  so ;  but  it  is  my  duty  to  try  to  prevent  his  bad 
treatment  of  the  scholars.  Don't  feel  so  grieved 
about  it,  Mina."  She  stooped,  and  would  have  kissed 
the  rosy,  pouting  lips,  but  the  child  prevented  it  by 
turning  quickly  away.  She  took  her  seat,  hid  her 
face  in  her  apron,  and  wept.  Miss  Morris  was  much 
surprised,  and  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  she  shook  her 
curly  head  very  determinedly,  and  sobbed  more 
bitterly. 

Clint  peered  at  her  through  his  tangled  hair,  and 
wondered.  He  could  not  understand  Mina's  feelings ; 
still  he  thought  that  he  would  rather  be  punished 
again  than  see  her  crying  for  him.  He  sat  remarkably 
still  all  the  afternoon,  wondering  how  it  happened 
that  a  beautiful  little  girl,  with  so  many  nice  clothes 
and  such  a  number  of  kind  friends,  could  care  enough 
about  him  to  cry  because  he  was  hurt ;  and  one,  too, 
whom  he  had  treated  so  very  unkindly. 

"Where  is  that  dear,  little  Mina?  "  cried  one  of 
the  large  girls,  at  recess.  No  one  could  tell ;  not 


CHILDISH    CHARACTER.  13 

even  Dora.  "  What  a  tender-hearted  child  she  is  ! 
I  wanted  to  put  my  arms  about  her  and  kiss  her,  when 
she  was  crying  as  though  her  heart  would  break." 

"  Did  you  notice,"  said  another,  "how  proudly  she 
came  out  of  the  school-house  ?  Then,  what  a  look  she 
gave  Miss  Morris  !  It  told,  better  than  she  could  have 
expressed  in  words,  her  indignation.  I  did  n't  know, 
before,  that  she  had  so  much  spirit." 

"  For  my  part,"  chimed  in  Jane  Kent,  "  I  think 
she  is  a  silly  thing  to  make  such  a  fuss  about  that 
beggar-boy.  I  believe  she  made  it  more  than  half 
just  for  the  sake  of  the  impression." 

"Why,  Jane!"  said  the  first  speaker,  "we  all 
know  Elmina  too  Avell  to  believe  a  word  of  it.  I 
should  think  Clinton  Forrest  would  be  ashamed  ever 
to  look  at  her  again.  I  wonder  where  the  little  one 
lias  hid  herself?" 

They  could  not  find  the  runaway,  and  they  gave 
up  the  search,  concluding  that  she  had  gone  home. 
She  did  not  make  her  appearance  at  school  again  that 
afternoon,  and  Dora  went  home  sad  and  lonely  without 
her. 


CHAPTER    II. 

HOME   INFLUENCE. 

A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned, 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command  ; 
And  yet  a  spirit  still  and  bright, 
With  something  of  an  angel  light. 

WORDSWORTH. 

THE  beautiful  Connecticut  winds  its  silvery  course 
through  the  green  plains  of  Oakville, — a  charming 
rural  village.  The  emerald  hills  rise  majestically 
towards  heaven,  throwing  their  cool  shadows  across 
the  shining  waters.  How  the  heart  of  nature's  wor 
shipper  revels  in  the  grand  scenery  which  the  Inimi 
table  Artist  has  pencilled  along  the  banks  of  our  own 
beloved  Connecticut !  A  writer  from  the  far-famed 
West  has  called  New  England  a  noble  "panorama." 
which  she  should  like  to  visit  on  a  pleasure  excursion  ; 
but  thought  a  home  in  the  fertile  and  luxuriant  West 
far  preferable.  Not  so.  Earth  has  no  purer,  sweeter 
homes,  than  the  thousands  nestling  in  the  green  bosom 
of  New  England.  Earth  has  no  nobler,  wiser  men. 
no  gentler,  truer  women,  than  those  who  are  the 
dwellers  in  these  homes. 

One  of  these  homes  —  a  model  home  —  a  "  minia 
ture  heaven  on  earth,"  we  will  introduce  to  the  reader. 
The  finest  and  most  tasteful  residence  in  Oakville  is 
the  property  of  Dr.  Clement,  —  a  generous,  public- 
spirited  man,  and  a  skilful  phvsician.  He  is  emphat- 

(14) 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  15 

ically  the  man  of  the  place.  His  wealth  and  station 
in  society  render  him  influential,  while  his  generosity 
and  affable  manners  make  him  popular.  The  poor  do 
not  envy,  nor  the  rich  rival  him.  He  is  alike  the 
friend  of  the  high  and  lowly.  His  wife  and  two 
children,  Frank  and  Elmina,  are  the  treasures  which 
God  has  lent  and  enshrined  within  his  heart  and 
home. 

The  wife  and  mother  is  the  guiding-star  of  this 
happy  family.  What  sunshine  is  to  day,  what  health 
is  to  life,  what  religion  is  to  man,  is  she  to  every 
member  of  the  household.  J'  A  perfect  woman,  nobly 
planned."  We  think  she  must  have  been  formed 
after  Wordsworth's  beautiful  ideal.  She  possesses  a 
delicate  and  pleasing  person,  a  refined  and  cultivated 
intellect,  and  a  heart  where  the  religion  of  love  dwells 
as  in  a  fitting  temple.  Her  husband  loves  her  almost 
idolatrously,  and  her  children  reverentially. 

One  beautiful  evening,  Mrs.  Clement  sat  by  her 
open  window,  watching  the  gentle  falling  of  the  cur 
tain  which  twilight  spreads  before  the  glory  of  re 
treating  day.  Early  September  had  added  a  soften 
ing  charm  to  nature,  which  had  seemed  almost  too 
beautiful  before.  The  birds  were  softly  chanting  their 
"good-night  songs,"  and  the  fragrance  of  many  flow 
ers  was  wafted  to  her  on  the  wings  of  the  zephyr. 
She  had 

"  Looked  and  listened,  till  the  spell 
Of  music  and  of  beauty  fell 
So  radiant  on  her  heart,' ' 

that  her  senses  seemed  lost  in  a  sweet  revery.  A 
glad  laugh  and  the  sound  of  childish  voices  aroused 
her.  A  happy  smile  danced  'neath  the  lids  of  her 
eyes  as  she  called,  in  her  gentle,  motherly  voice, 

"Mina,  bid  Dora  'good-night'  and  come  in  to 
mamma,  for  the  dew  is  falling." 


16  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

A  moment  more,  and  EJmina  skipped  into  the  room, 
followed  by  Frank,  who  seated  himself  by  the  table, 
and  commenced  studying  his  lessons  for  the  morrow. 
Elmina  drew  her  little  chair  to  her  mother's  side,  and 
laid  her  head  in  her  lap,  looking  up  into  her  face  with 
smiling  eyes. 

Mrs.  Clement  parted  the  damp  curls  from  her 
daughter's  brow,  saying,  "Is  my  little  girl  sorry 
when  night  comes,  and  she  must  leave  her  play  and 
come  in  and  stay  with  her  mother?  " 

"  0,  no,  mamma  !  I  love  Dora  dearly,  and  papa 
and  Frank  ever  so  much  ;  but  you,  mamma,  I  love 
better  than  everybody  else  !  It  seems  so  nice  to  lay 
my  head  in  your  lap  when  I  am  tired.  0,  mamma  ! ' ' 
she  added,  raising  her  head  eagerly,  with  the  sudden 
thought,  "tell  me  some  more  about  the  angels  and 
heaven.  I  wish  I  was  an  angel  myself,  when  I  hear 
you  talk  about  them." 

':  I  have  told  you  all  I  know,  my  love.  You  must 
recollect  that  I  have  never  seen  an  angel ;  they  live 
with  God  in  heaven." 

"  Then,  mamma,  please  tell  me  about  Jesus,  who 
slept  in  a  manger,  and  how  the  angels  sung  when  he 
was  born.  When  you  tell  me  about  that,  I  feel  as 
though  I  should  always  be  good." 

The  pleased  mother  related,  as  she  had  many  times 
before,  the  story  of  the  birth  of  our  Saviour.  She 
interspersed  it  with  judicious  remarks  calculated  to 
impress  the  plastic  mind  of  her  eager  listener  with 
the  value  and  beauty  of  religion.  Child  as  Elmiria 
was,  her  greatest  desire  was  to  become  good.  Her 
mother  she  deemed  perfect :  and,  as  was  most  natural, 
she  looked  upon  her  as  her  model  and  example.  Mrs. 
Clement  knew  this,  and  with  earnest  solicitude  she 
strove  thus  early  to  implant  in  the  mind  of  her  child 
a  love  for  that  only  perfect  example  and  pattern — our 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  17 

Saviour.  She*  felt  that  her  delicate  and  sensitive  child 
could  never  withstand  the  trials  and  temptations  of 
this  life  without  His  holy  arm  to  lean  upon.  Though 
she  was  anxious  that  her  beloved  children  should  attain 
to  intellectual  greatness,  she  considered  that  insig 
nificant  when  compared  to  a  character  adorned  with 
the  Christian  graces. 

Mina  listened  to  her  mother's  words  with  great 
seriousness.  After  she  had  ceased  speaking,  she  sat 
silent  and  thoughtful  for  some  time.  Mrs.  Clement, 
thinking  proper  to  divert  her  mind  to  some  lighter 
and  more  trifling  subject,  inquired  if  they  had  had 
a  pleasant  school  that  day. 

The  question  seemed  to  confuse  Mina ;  for  she 
blushed,  and  fixed  her  eyes  upon  her  mother's  with  a 
troubled  expression. 

Mrs.  Clement  looked  at  her  with  surprise,  and 
asked  if  she  had  not  been  a  good  girl. 

The  reply  was  in  a  low  voice.  "  No,  mamma,  I'm 
afraid  that  I  have  not  been  very  good." 

"  How  have  you  been  naughty,  my  dear?  I  hope 
you  was  not  so  at  school." 

"  Why,  mamma,  I  looked  cross  at  my  teacher,  and 
would  not  let  her  kiss  me." 

"  Looked  cross  at  your  teacher,  Mina  !  How  cauio 
you  to  be  so  disrespectful  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"I  couldn't  love  her  any!  She  whipped  poor 
Clinton  Forrest  when  he  did  n't  deserve  it.  Was  n't 
it  too  bad,  mamma  ?  He  did  not  hurt  me  at  all ;  he 
only  spoiled  my  flowers."  Her  eyes  were  sparkling 
with  tears.  She  forgot  her  own  misconduct  in  her 
childish  indignation  against  her  teacher. 

"  You  seem  to  think  that  I  know  part  of  the  story. 
You  will  have  to  tell  me  what  Clinton  did.  before  I 
can  understand  it." 
2 


18  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  about  it,  mother,"  said  Frank, 
who  had  been  listening  to  the  conversation.  "  Mina 
seems  to  think  it  was  a  dreadful  affair ;  though  it 
wasn't  much,  after  all.''  He  then  explained  to  his 
mother  his  meeting  the  little  girls,  and  Elmina's 
grief  and  Dora's  anger.  "  Then,"  he  continued,  "  I 
was  very  angry  too.  and  told  Miss  Morris,  and  she 
punished  him,  as  she  had  been  threatening  to  do  for  a 
long  time.  I'm  very  sorry  I  did,  though,  since 
Mina  takes  it  so  to  heart." 

"  I  scolded  at  Frank,  too,  when  we  came  home, 
because  he  told  the  teacher,"  said  Elmina.  "I  know 
he  did  it  because  he  loves  me  so,  and  don't  want  me 
to  be  treated  badly." 

"0,  never  mind  that,  sis!"  said  Frank,  good- 
humoredly.  "  I  should  n't  know  how  to  appreciate 
your  sweetness,  if  you  were  not  a  little  cross  some 
times." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  were  grieved,  Mina." 
said  Mrs.  Clement.  "  But  I  am  sorry  that  you  should 
treat  your  teacher  and  brother  unkindly.  I  am 
glad,  though,  that  it  is  nothing  worse.  I  feared, 
by  your  looks,  that  you  had  done  something  very 
wrong." 

"  0,  mamma,  that  is  not  all ! "  Elmina  turned  her 
blushing  and  tearful  face  away  from  her  mother's 
anxious  gaze.  ':  When  I  went  out  at  recess  —  " 

"  When  you  went  out  at  recess  ! "  interrupted 
Frank.  "  0,  mother.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
her  !  She  went  out  like  a  queen,  with  her  head 
thrown  back  so  proudly  !  Then  she  gave  Miss  Mor 
ris  such  a  look — it  would  have  annihilated  a  common 
person  in  a  minute  !  I  never  knew  that  Mina  had  so 
much  temper  before.  She  didn't  come  into  school 
again  all  the  afternoon.  Where  did  you  hide  your 
self,  sis?" 


HOME    INFLUENCE.  19 

"  I  ran  down  to  Happy  Nook  as  quick  as  I  could, 
BO  that  Dora  or  anybody  else  couldn't  see  me.  I 
did  n't  mean  to  stay  only  a  minute,  but  I  felt  so  bad 
thinking  about  poor  Clint,  that  I  could  n't  go'back.  I 
knew  it  was  naughty  to  stay,  but  I  could  n't  bear  to 
see  Clint,  for  fear  he  would  hate  me." 

Mrs.  Clement  listened  with  mingled  emotions  of 
pleasure  and  pain.  She  was  grateful  to  know  that 
her  daughter  was  so  tender  to  the  poor  and  oppressed, 
but  grieved  that  she  should  manifest  so  rebellious  a 
spirit  towards  her  teacher.  It  was  something  very  new 
in  Mina.  and  she  was  surprised  as  well  as  grieved. 
Elmina  argued,  from  her  mother's  silence,  that  she 
was  very  much  displeased  with  her,  and  she  hid  her 
face  in  the  folds  of  her  dress,  and  sobbed. 

"Don't  cry,  my  love,"  said  Mrs.  Clement.  "I 
think  your  teacher  will  forgive  you,  if  you  tell  her 
you  are  sorry.  I  am  willing  to  believe  that  you  did 
not  mean  to  do  very  wrong  ;  that  you  were  so  sorry 
for  Clint  that  you  forgot  yourself." 

"  You  are  such  a  good  mother  not  to  say  I  was  a 
bad  girl !  "  said  Elmina,  gratefully.  "  I  did  n't  mean 
to  be  naughty  to  Miss  Morris.  I  want  to  be  good,  so 
everybody  will  love  me." 

' '  Try  very  hard  to  be  good,  my  dear  child,  and 
ask  God  to  help  you  every  day." 

"  I  will,  mamma ;  but  I  wish  I  was  as  good  as 
you.  I  would  never  ask  to  be  any  better." 

"My  darling,  there  is  a  perfect  example  —  Jesus 
Christ.  If  you  take  him  for  your  guide,  you  may 
become  much  better  and  wiser  than  your  mother." 

"  Better  than  you,  mamma  !  How  can  that  be  ?  I 
thought  you  were  always  good." 

"  0,  no,  Mina ;  I  am  often  wrong,  and  need  to 
ask  forgiveness  of  God.  But  let  us  talk  about  your 
teacher.  You  said  you  did  not  love  her.  You  must 


20  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

recollect  that  she  is  older  and  wiser  than  you.  She 
punishes  Clinton  because  she  wishes  to  make  him  a 
good  boy." 

"0,  'I  do  love  my  teacher,  though  I  thought  I 
didn't  then.  But  she  don't  love  Clint,  I  'm  sure.  She 
never  says  a  word  to  him,  only  to  tell  him  what  to  do, 
or  scold  him  when  he  is  naughty/' 

"  Of  course  she  don't  love  him  !  "  cried  Frank. 

:;  But  she  loves  me,  Frank,"  said  Elmina.  "  She 
kisses  me,  and  calls  me  her  little  darling.  And  Dora 
she  calls  her  fairy.  Why  should  n't  she  love  poor 
Clint  ?  '•' 

"Why,  Mina,  if  she  didn't  love  you  and  Dora, 
I  should  think  she  had  n't  any  heart !  It  is  quite 
another  thing  to  love  that  ugly  Clint  Forrest." 

"  You  shan't  call  him  ugly !  I  say  he  is  hand 
some." 

"  Handsome  !  — what  an  idea  of  beauty  !  "  —  and 
Frank  laughed  immoderately.  "Why.  he  is  always 
as  ragged  and  dirty  as  any  heathen  need  be.  His 
head  forever  looks  like  an  oven-broom  !  Then  he  has 
such  an  ugly  scowl  that  I  can't  bear  to  look  at  him." 

'•'Frank!"  said  Elmina,  reproachfully,  "you  know 
Clint  has  no  mother  to  keep  him  neat.  His  hair  would 
be  real  curly  if  it  was  combed  ;  and  his  eyes  are  beau 
tiful.  Did  you  ever  notice  them,  Frank,  when  he  was 
good-natured  ?  You  would  say  they  were  handsome, 
if  you  did." 

"  Well,  to  please  you,  sis,  I  '11  say  he  's  a  beauty  ; 
but  you  can't  make  me  say  he  is  n't  a  bad  boy. 
Everybody  says  he  is  bad." 

"That  is  it.  Poor  Clint!"  said  Mrs.  Clement. 
"  Everybody  says  he  is  a  bad  boy,  and  I  'm  afraid 
there  are  but  few  that  try  to  love  him  and  make 
him  better." 

"  No,  mamma,"  said  Mina.   "There  isn't  anybody 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  21 

that  loves  him.  He  said  to-day  that  he  hated  every 
body,  and  everybody  hated  him.  I  'm  sure  I  could  n't 
be  good  at  all,  if  I  did  not  have  a  kind  mother  to  sho\v 
me  how." 

"I  think  Clinton  never  has  had  a  fair  chance," 
said  Mrs.  Clement.  ' '  He  was  always  pushed  about, 
and  called  wicked,  before  he  knew  what  the  word 
meant.  I  hope,  dear  Frank,  that  you  will  treat  him 
kindly.  If  you  are  so  disposed,  you  may  be  the  means 
of  doing  him  much  good." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,  mother,"  said  Frank. 
"  Clint  has  been  neglected  and  abused.  I  '11  try  to 
help  him  to  be  good.  I  'm  afraid,  as  Mina  says,  that 
Miss  Morris  does  not  try  to  get  his  love.  I  should 
think  Mrs.  Kent  would  dress  him  better,  and  take 
some  pains  with  him.'*' 

"We  will  not  think  of  Mrs.  Kent's  duty,  my  son, 
but  try  to  fulfil  our  own  faithfully." 

Elmina  was  rejoiced  that  she  had  succeeded  in 
enlisting  the  sympathies  of  her  mother  and  Frank 
in  behalf  of  poor  Clint.  With  a  happy  heart  she 
bade  her  brother  "  good-night, ';  and  followed  her 
mother  to  her  bed-chamber.  Mrs.  Clement  conversed 
a  few  minutes  with  her  little  girl,  then  listened  to  her 
evening  prayer,  and,  with  a  kiss  and  a  blessing,  left 
her  to  her  peaceful  slumbers.  When  she  returned 
to  the  parlor,  a  lady,  sitting  in  the  chair  she  had  left, 
rose,  and  Mrs.  Clement  greeted  her  visitor  with  quiet 
politeness. 

"I  thought  I  would  run  in  just  a  minute,"  said 
the  visitor,  as  she  reseated  herself,  "and  see  if  it 
would  n't  cheer  me  up  a  little.  I  have  been  so  nerv 
ous  all  day,  that  I  could  hardly  contain  myself." 

"What  is  the  cause  of  your  nervousness,  Mrs. 
Kent  ?  Are  you  not  well  ?  " 

"  0,  yes,  I  'm  well  enough ;  but  Bill  keeps  me 


22  THE  HARVEST  OF  LOVE. 

worrying  about  him  half  the  time.  He  goes  into 
the  water  so  much,  that  I  am  afraid  he  will  have  the 
cramp  and  get  drowned.  All  I  say  to  him  don't  do 
any  good.  To-day  he  went  off  a-hunting  with  half  a 
dozen  wild  fellows.  He  doesn't  know  anything  about 
a  gun,  and  I  've  felt  so  anxious  about  him  that  I 
have  n't  enjoyed  myself  in  the  least  to-day." 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  are  anxious ;  but  is  his  father 
willing  to  have  him  go  ?  " 

':  0,  Mr.  Kent  always  lets  him  do  as  he  pleases. 
He  thinks  everything  Bill  says  and  does  is  right. 
He  has  spoiled  him,  that  is  sure  !  Now  he  is  so  old 
I  can't  make  him  mind.  I  don't  know  what  will 
become  of  him  !  " 

"  So  old  you  can't  make  him  mind  ! ''  said  Mrs. 
Clement,  in  surprise.  "Why,  he  isn't  more  than 
thirteen,  is  he  ?  " 

"  No ;  just  the  age  of  your  Frank.  He  has  grown 
strangely  wilful  of  late.  I  am  completely  discouraged. 
The  other  day  I  told  him  I  wished  he  would  spend  his 
evenings  at  home,  as  Frank  does.  He  replied  that 
'  he  did  n't  want  to  be  tied  to  his  mother's  apron- 
string.'  Then  he  went  and  got  one  of  his  father's 
cigars  (he  knows  I  hate  to  have  him  smoke),  and 
went  off  puffing  like  any  man  !  But  I  can't  help 
being  proud  of  him,"  continued  the  weak  mother,  "  he 
is  so  bold  and  manly  !  " 

Mrs.  Clement  thought  that  she  should  never  be 
proud  of  such  manliness  in  her  boy,  but  wisely  kept 
the  thought  to  herself. 

It  were  scarce  possible  to  find  a  character  moro 
opposite  to  Mrs.  Clement's  than  that  of  Mrs.  Kent, 
who  was  coarse  and  unrefined  in  manners,  and  pas 
sionate,  yet  weak  and  irresolute.  Her  children  she 
loved  foolishly,  for  she  spoiled  them  with  indulgence, 
and  then  comforted  herself  by  throwing  all  the  blame 


HOME   INFLUENCE.  23 

upon  her  husband.  Of  course  they  neit  aer  loved  nor 
feared  her,  and  in  consequence  her  maternal  anxieties 
were  often  excited  by  their  misconduct. 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  Mrs.  Kent,  "how  you 
manage  to  keep  Frank  with  you  so  much.     Why,  my_ 
children  never  think  of  sitting  down  in  the  house  with 
me  for  half  an  hour.     They  would  think  it  was  a 
dreadful  thing,  if  I  should  make  them." 

"  It  requires  no  great  exertions  on  my  part,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Clement,  smiling.  "  Frank  may  answer 
for  himself  if  it  is  unpleasant  for  him." 

Mrs.  Kent  never  received  such  a  glance  from  her 
son  as  that  which  now  warmed  Mrs.  Clement's  heart. 
With  an  affectionate  smile,  and  a  beaming  eye,  Frank 
exclaimed,  ' '  I  am  never  so  happy  as  when  near  my 
dear  mother  !  " 

Mrs.  Kent's  eyes  filled,  and  a  pang  shot  through 
her  heart,  as  she  contrasted  him  with  her  own  way 
ward  and  ungrateful  son.  But  she  never  thought 
of  reproaching  herself  for  the  difference,  —  she  only 
wondered  it  was  so. 

"  I  think  you  are  a  remarkable  person,  Mrs.  Clem 
ent.  Everybody  seems  to  yield  to  your  wishes,  as 
though  they  were  happier  for  so  doing.  Ann  is  con 
tinually  praising  you  up,  and  says  she  would  not  leave 
you  for  another  mistress,  for  all  the  world.  She  says, 
too,  that  you  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  in  talking  to 
Mina  about  religious  things,  and  telling  her  Bible 
stories.  That  seems  to  me  to  be  all  nonsense  !  I 
never  talk  to  my  children  about  such  things ;  they  '11 
find  'em  out  themselves  as  they  grow  older." 

"I  cannot  agree  with  you  there,  Mrs.  Kent.  I 
think  our  children  should  very  early  be  taught  the 
difference  between  right  and  wrong,  and  then  they 
will  be  more  apt  to  choose  the  right." 

"Of course,  Mrs.  Clement,  I  teach  mine  that.     I 


24  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

tell  them  it  is  dreadful  wicked  to  lie  and  steal,  and  I 
should  certainly  whip  them  if  I  ever  knew  of  their 
doing  so.  But  I  mean  there  's  no  use  in  talking  to 
children  about  religion  and  goodness  half  the  time. 
It  makes  them  too  sober." 

"  I  thought  you  approved  of  religious  instruction 
for  children,  as  you  send  yours  to  the  Sunday-school," 
said  Mrs.  Clement. 

"  0,  la !  I  send  them  because  everybody  else  does, 
not  because  I  'm  so  particular  about  their  going. 
Pray,  what  good  would  going  to  Sunday-school,  or 
all  the  good  instructions  in  the  world,  do  Clint 
Forrest?" 

Mrs.  Clement  had  been  desirous  of  speaking  of 
Clinton  to  Mrs.  Kent.  It  was  a  delicate  subject,  and 
she  knew  not  how  to  approach  it,  fearing  to  offend  her 
neighbor,  and  thus  do  more  harm  than  good.  She 
said,  gently,  "  I  am  not  sure  but  that  it  might  im 
prove  him.  You  don't  believe  he  is  wholly  bad,  do 
you?" 

"Yes,  indeed  I  do,  Mrs.  Clement!  I've  wasted 
all  the  breath  I  ever  shall  in  talking  to  him  and 
telling  him  how  he  ought  to  do.  I  do  verily  believe 
he  -s  the  worst  child  in  the  world  !  "  She  grew  elo 
quent,  as  she  often  did,  when  talking  of  Clint's  wick 
edness.  "He  is  the  great  trial  of  my  life.  I  said 
last  winter. that  he  should  not  stay  with  us;  that  I 
would  not  try  to  do  anything  with  him.  But  Mr. 
Kent  has  taken  him  in  hand  lately,  and  has  got  him 
a  little  broken  under.  He  don't  dare  to  show  out 
his  ugliness  as  he  used  to." 

Mrs.  Clement  saw  with  pain  how  impossible  it  waa 
to  awaken  right  feelings  in  Mrs.  Kent's  heart,  and 
with  great  tact  turned  the  subject ;  still  thinking  in 
her  own  mind  of  ways  and  means  of  befriending 
poor,  friendless  Clinton. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   POWER   OF   KINDNESS. 

Miss  MORRIS  sat  at  the  table,  in  her  pleasant 
school-room,  writing  letters.  It  was  a  quiet  and  con 
venient  place  for  study,  and  she  often  brought  her 
books  or  writing  thither.  The  morning  was  bright 
and  fair ;  and  the  gentle  breezes  dallied  with  the  maps 
upon  the  walls,  or  stole  softly  through  the  room,  sigh 
ing,  as  if  mourning  for  the  sweet  presence  of  the  little 
throng  that  daily  gathered  there.  A  light  step  ar 
rested  her  attention,  and,  looking  up.  she  beheld  Mina 
by  her  side,  with  a  peace-offering  of  flowers. 

"  Here  are  some  flowers  for  you,  Miss  Morris." 

"  Thank  you,  Mina  ;  they  are  very  sweet.  I  hope 
my  darling  will  not  deny  me  a  kiss  this  morning  ?  " 

Elmina  clasped  her  arms  around  her  teacher's  neck, 
and  presented  her  cherry  mouth  for  a  kiss.  "  Mamma 
thinks  I  was  very  wrong  yesterday,  and  says  I  should 
ask  you  to  forgive  me.  I  am  very  sorry  indeed,  dear 
teacher." 

"It  is  easy  for  me  to  forgive  you,  little  Mina.  as 
you  never  were  naughty  before,  and  now  ask  pardon 
so  sweetly."  And  she  sealed  the  forgiveness  with 
another  kiss.  "  There,  I  hear  Dora's  voice;  run  out 
and  play  till  I  ring  the  bell,  for  I  wish  to  finish  my 
letter."  She  thought  Mina  had  gone,  and  turned  to 
her  writing.  A  moment  after,  she  was  started  with 
the  sound  of  a  sigh,  and.  turning  her  head,  she  per- 

(25) 


26  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

ceived  the  child  still  standing  by  her  side,  and  regard 
ing  her  very  wistfully. 

"  What  is  it  you  wish  to  say,  little  one  ?  " 

Her  beautiful  eyes  deepened  with  expression  and 
feeling,  as  she  met  the  lady's  gaze  ;  and,  with  a  voice 
pleadingly,  touchingly  earnest,  she  said,  "  You  will 
love  poor  Clint?'''  Then,  as  if  fearful  she  had 
offended,  she  glided  quickly  away. 

"  You  will  love  poor  Clint  ?  "  Like  new,  strange 
music,  did  these  words  fall  on  the  heart  of  little  Clin 
ton  ;  for  he  heard  them.  He  had  followed  Elmina  as 
she  entered  the  school-room,  and,  hidden  behind  the 
door,  heard  all  that  passed.  "  Could  any  one  love 
him,  a  ragged,  dirty,  wicked  boy  ?  Could  the  beau 
tiful  Elmina,  the  pet  and  idol  of  the  village,  love 
him?"  The  thought  of  a  thing  so  joyful,  but 
strange,  brought  a  gush  of  tears  from  his  eyes.  0, 
blessed  tears!  —  the  first  ever  brought  from  that  long- 
sealed  fountain  of  tenderness  and  feeling.  They  be 
dewed  the  wild  flowers  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and 
made  them  holy  things. 

These  selfsame  flowers'  Mina  found  upon  her  desk 
when  the  school  commenced.  As  she  took  them  up, 
wonderingly,  she  glanced  at  Clinton,  and  immediately 
knew,  by  his  looks,  that  he  had  placed  them  there. 
Their  language  was,  "that  Clint  was  very  sorry  for 
his  unkindness."  At  least  she  read  it  so  ;  and  with  a 
glad  smile  she  held  them  up  to  him  significantly,  nod 
ding  her  thanks. 

Clinton  had  watched  her  eagerly ;  and  when  he 
saw  that  she  understood  him,  and  prized  the  flowers, 
he  hid  his  face  with  his  book,  for  another  gush  of 
tears  flooded  his  eyes. 

11  You  will  love  poor  Clint?''  Reprovingly,  re 
proachfully,  did  the  words  and  tone  come  to  the  ear 
of  Miss  Morris.  They  wakened  her  to  a  keen  sense 


THE    POWER    OF   KINDNESS.  27 

of  her  error  in  her  management  of  the  wayward  boy. 
They  pointed  out  one  path  in  which  she  had  not  tried 
to  lead  him,  —  the  path  of  love.  The  duties  of  the 
day  she  performed  mechanically,  for  she  was  absent- 
minded  and  thoughtful ;  questioning  her  own  conduct, 
"  talking  with  her  past  hours."  "  Had  she  performed 
all  her  duty  towards  the  poor  orphan  boy  ?  She  had 
not !  "  Earnestly,  oft  prayerfully,  as  she  had  striven 
to  be  Avorthy  of  her  high  calling,  she  was  conscious 
that  she  had  sadly  failed  in  the  first,  great  duty  of 
obtaining  the  love  of  all  her  charges. 

Miss  Morris  was  not  heartless.  She  had  only 
fallen  into  the  common  error  of  considering  Clinton 
as  being  incapable  of  yielding  to  the  influence  of 
kindness,  and  naturally  had  adopted  a  course  of 
severity.  0,  sad  it  was  for  her,  but  sadder  still  for 
the  much-wronged  boy ! 

She  blessed  in  her  heart  the  angel-child  who  had 
unconsciously  taught  her  her  duty.  She  spoke 
kindly  to  Clinton,  and  strove  to  win  him  to  her 
side  with  love ;  but  it  was  too  late  !  The  school 
term  closed  in  three  weeks,  and  it  would  have  taken 
a  much  longer  time  to  turn  his  ill-will  to  confidence 
and  love. 

A  few  months  later,  and  she  was  a  happy  bride, 
loving  and  beloved.  But  never  did  she  cease  to  regret 
the  golden  opportunity  she  had  lost,  of  blessing  a 
poor,  friendless  child  with  her  own  love  and  kindness. 

About  ten  years  before  the  opening  of  our  story,  a 
young  man,  by  the  name  of  Forrest,  and  his  delicate, 
pensive  bride,  came  and  settled  in  Oakville.  He 
engaged  a  neat  tenement,  and  lived  very  happily, 
though  frugally,  with  his  sweet  wife.  It  was  evident 
that,  they  depended  upon  his  daily  earnings,  for  he 
labored  constantly,  and  with  a  right  good  will.  They 


28  THE   HARVEST   OF 

were  from  a  distance,  and  strangers  to  all  the  vil 
lagers. 

Those  whose  pleasure  it  was  to  visit  them  in  their 
simple  home  spoke  of  the  tender  and  beautiful  love 
that  existed  between  the  young  couple.  The  memory 
of  some  sorrow  seemed  to  give  a  look  of  quiet  sadness 
to  her  pale,  pensive  countenance,  which  the  husband 
seemed  ever  striving  to  remove  by  increasing  affec 
tion  and  tenderness.  Perhaps  he,  in  a  measure,  suc 
ceeded,  for  she  grew  more  cheerful,  and  they  appeared 
happy  as  poor  mortals  can  be. 

This  pleasing  state  of  things  was  not  to  last  long. 
The  spoiler  entered  their  Eden.  Death  knocked  at 
the  portal,  and  went  not  away  alone  !  Mr.  Forrest 
was  violently  seized  with  a  fever,  and  in  a  few  short 
days  his  lifeless  body  was  laid  beneath  the  green 
turf. 

The  first  outbreak  of  grief  on  the  part  of  the  young 
widow  was  overwhelming  and  terrible.  But  this  soon 
subsided  into  a  cold  and  stony  apathy,  that  was  even 
more  distressing  than  her  passionate  sorrow.  Her 
neighbors  tried  to  arouse  her  by  talking  of  her  friends, 
and  asking  where  they  should  send  to  find  them.  Her 
only  reply  was  a  mournful  shake  of  the  head,  or  a 
quivering  sigh.  They  knew  that  they  must  soon  lay 
her  by  her  husband,  for  already  the  death-angel  was 
hovering  near.  After  her  fatherless  babe  was  born, 
the  dazzling  brilliancy  of  her  eye,  with  its  expression 
of  agony,  told  that  she  was  fully  conscious  of  her 
desolate  and  bereaved  condition.  She  would  lay  for 
hours,  regarding  the  tiny  being  by  her  side  with  a 
mournful  tenderness  that  was  indescribably  touching. 
Good  old  Mrs.  Wilkins,  who  took  the  care  of  Mrs. 
Forrest  upon  herself,  did  all  in  her  power  to  restore 
her  to  life  and  health.  But  human  aid  was  vain ;  the 
poor  lady  was  hourly  passing  away,  —  ever  with  her 


THE    POWER   OF  KINDNESS.  29 

eyes  upon  her  babe,  —  ever  with  that  pleading  expres 
sion  of  love ! 

The  sun  was  setting;  and  Mrs.  Wilkins  feared 
her  patient  would  never  see  it  rise  again.  She  was 
exceedingly  anxious  to  learn  of  the  relatives  of  the 
mother,  that  she  might  know  where  to  send  the 
babe,  and  with  great  delicacy  she  approached  the 
subject. 

"What  shall  we  call  your  baby,  Mrs.  Forrest?" 
she  said  to  the  dying  woman. 

' '  He  must  have  his  father's  name,  Clinton  Edward 
Forrest;  it  is  all  I  can  give  him,  poor  thing!  "  was 
the  low  answer. 

"Mrs.  Forrest,"  said  the  nurse  again,  "do  you  not 
feel  that  God  has  called  you ;  that  you  will  soon  meet 
your  dear  husband? " 

A  faint,  sweet  smile  parted  the  wan  lips  of  the 
sufferer,  as  she  raised  her  fading  eyes  heavenward. 
"  She  's  most  there,  sure  !  "  thought  the  old  lady,  as 
she  wiped  her  tearful  eyes.  But  she  must  be  aroused 
from  this  torpor,  else  it  would  be  too  late  ever  to  gain 
the  so  much  desired  information. 

' '  Dear  lady,  you  would  not  leave  your  babe  alone  in 
the  world  ?  Have  you  not  strength  to  tell  me  where 
I  may  find  his  father's  friends?  " 

The  words  seemed  to  call  her  from  the  borders  of 
the  grave.  With  a  look  of  sudden  anguish  she  mur 
mured,  "0,  no,  no!  but  Clinton  was  an  orphan  — 
alone  —  " 

"  But  your  friends,  dear  lady,  tell  me  of  them," 
said  Mrs.  Wilkins,  bending  low  to  catch  the  broken 
and  almost  inaudible  answer. 

"  Yes,  send  him  to  them;  they  will  care — brothers 
will  love  my  child  — "  A  spasm  shook  her  frail 
form,  and  her  eyes  closed  heavily.  After  a  moment, 
seemingly  of  suspended  life,  the  eyes  opened  with  a 


30  THE  HARVEST  OF  LOVE. 

quick  gleam  of  intelligence.  As  she  moved  her  hand 
feebly  towards  her  babe,  she  murmured.  "  Poor 
Clint  —  "  The  fair  hand  dropped  cold  and  lifeless 
upon  her  breast ;  the  lids  closed  over  those  eyes  never 
to  open  again ;  the  pulsation  of  that  burdened  heart 
had  ceased  forever ! 

Mrs.  Wilkins  bent  over  the  clay  in  speechless 
grief.  The  mournful  death  of  the  young  creature 
before  her  had  shocked  her  kind  heart ;  and  she  was 
filled  with  apprehensions  for  the  fate  of  the  little 
orphan. 

The  proceeds  of  the  simple  furniture,  when  sold, 
barely  covered  the  expenses  of  the  sickness  and  death 
of 'the  young  couple;  there  was  nothing  left  for  the 
little  one.  Everybody  was  full  of  wonder  and  curi 
osity  concerning  the  strange  silence  of  Mrs.  Forrest 
in  regard  to  her  friends.  Even  death  could  not  repress 
slanderous  tales,  or  evil  and  suspicious  whisperings. 
But  what  should  be  done  with  the  baby  ?  Ah,  there 
were  many  to  ask,  but  none  to  answer,  the  question ! 
Mrs.  Wilkins  would  gladly  have  taken  him  to  her 
heart,  and  cherished  him  as  her  own,  but  she  was 
poor  and  dependent  herself. 

What  should  be  done  with  the  baby  ?  Alas  !  there 
was  not  one  heart,  not  one  home  open  to  receive  it. 
It  was  carrie'd  to  the  poor-house.  Sad  fate  it  was  for 
the  tender  germ  of  humanity  ! 

The  matron  of  the  house  was  a  busy,  bustling 
woman,  with  a  host  of  duties  on  her  hands.  She  fed 
the  baby  when  she  did  not  forget  it,  and  washed  and 
dressed  it  when  she  had  time.  Sickly,  and  always 
pining  for  the  want  of  proper  care  and  nourishment, 
it  was  a  peevish  and  fretful  babe.  The  matron 
declared  she  despised  the  pale,  cross  thing,  and  every 
one  in  fee  establishment  echoed  the  sentiment.  There 
were  no  loving  arms  to  fold  around  the  little  one ;  no 


THE   POWER   OF   KINDNESS.  31 

tender  breast  to  pillow  his  weary  head;  no  careful 
eyes  to  watch  his  infant  steps ;  no  kind  voice  to  win 
his  heart  to  love  and  goodness  ! 

When  he  became  old  enough  to  play  out  of  doors 
he  grew  robust  and  strong.  At  the  age  of  three  years 
he  was  a  sturdy  little  fellow,  whose  striking  charac 
teristics  were  an  obstinate  spirit,  and  a  passionate 
temper.  Neglect  and  unkindness  had  not  made  him 
timid  or  fearful.  All  the  evil  passions  of  his  nature 
were  daily  brought  into  active  exercise,  while  good 
and  noble  emotions  were  never  awakened.  At  school 
he  early  distinguished  himself  for  wilful  disobedience 
and  impudence,  and  soon  earned  the  reputation  of 
being  the  worst  boy  in  school.  He  looked  upon  all 
the  scholars  as  his  enemies;  and.  consequently,  he 
was  insolent  and  quarrelsome.  A  year  before  the 
commencement  of  our  tale  he  was  placed  in  the  family 
of  Mr.  Kent,  who  was  to  receive  pay  for  his  board 
until  he  arrived  at  the  age  of  eleven  years. 

Mr.  Kent  promised  to  give  him  the  shoemaker's 
trade,  arid  set  him  up  in  business,  if  he  did  well  and 
was  a  good  boy.  People  thought  he  was  perfectly 
safe  in  making  this  conditional  promise,  as  there  was 
small  prospect  of  Clint's  ever  'becoming  remarkably 
good.  Clinton  was  little  better  off  in  his  new  home, 
though,  being  under  stricter  government,  some  of  his 
evil  habits  were  restrained.  Had  Mrs.  Kent  tried  to 
gain  his  love  she  would  easily  have  succeeded,  for  his 
heart  was  nearly  bursting  with  the  desire  for  affec 
tion.  A  kind  word,  a  little  forbearance  on  her  part, 
would  have  soon  secured  respectful  and  grateful  obe 
dience.  But  she  was  ignorant  of  her  duty  to  the 
orphan,  and  never  addressed  a  word  to  him,  except 
to  command  or  reprove. 

Reader,  do  you  know  a  child  like  Clinton,  —  way 
ward,  full  of  childish  errors,  yet  needing,  more  than 


82  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

all  things  else,  sympathy  and  love  ?  Do  you  know 
of  a  fatherless  and  motherless  one,  whom  fortune 
seems  ever  to  frown  upon?  Is  there  near  you  a 
little,  throbbing,  aching  heart,  growing  cold  and  hard 
for  a  want  of  kindly  counsel  ?  0,  speak  tenderly  to 
him !  A  word  may  help  him,  a  sentence  may  save 
him ! 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  ORPHAN'S  THANKSGIVING. 

THANKSGIVING-DAY  had  arrived — that  time-hon 
ored  New  England  festival  —  that  ' (  feast  of  good 
things  " — that  reunion  of  kindred  and  loving  hearts 
—  that  home  jubilee.  What  a  busy,  bustling,  happy 
time  !  How  the  children  hasten  to  join  the  "  old 
folks  at  home!"  How  the  brothers  and  sisters, 
uncles  and  aunts,  and  cousins,  gather  around  the  fes 
tive  board  in  the  dear  old  farm-house  !  Hard,  indeed, 
it  is  for  those  whom  fortune  denies  the  privilege  of 
visiting  "the  loved  ones  at  home"  on  this  the  glad 
day  of  the  year.  What  joyful  greetings  —  what 
hearty  hand-shakings  —  what  laughter  —  what  telling 
of  news  —  what  a  destruction  of  edibles  —  0,  what  a 
host  of  pleasures  crowd  into  this  Thanksgiving-day  ! 

Thanksgiving-day  !  The  "dew  of  feeling"  moist 
ens  the  eye,  as  the  memory  of  happy  thanksgivings 
presses  upon  the  heart.  Perhaps  the  light  of  a  beauti 
ful  eye  is  quenched  in  night ;  perchance  a  beloved  voice 
is  hushed  in  death.  There  are  vacant  seats  at  the 
table,  there  are  desolate  hearth-stones,  and  there  are 
broken  links  in  the  chain  of  love.  Perhaps  the 
mourning  heart  says,  in  its  sorrow,  "There  are  no 
more  thanksgivings  for  me.  I  will  go  down  to  the 
grave  sorrowing  for  the  loved  and  lost." 

Christian,  count  thy  blessings,  if  thou  canst.  There 
are  other  aching  hearts,  other  lacerated  bosoms  than 
3  (33) 


34     *  TI1E    HARVEST    OF    LOVK. 

thine.  Go,  "visit  the  widow  and  fatherless  in  their 
affliction;"  go,  "speak  comfort  to  the  sorrowing," 
and  thy  life  shall  be  one  long  Thanksgiving. 

There  was  much  running  hither  and  thither  in  Mr. 
Kent's  household  on  this  Thanksgiving  morning. 
Extra  preparations  had  been  made  on  this  occasion ; 
for  a  score  of  relatives  were  expected  to  celebrate  the 
day  with  them.  Mrs.  Kent's  ample  store-room  was 
filled  to  overflowing  with  every  variety  of  baked 
meats,  rich  pies  and  cakes,  with  innumerable  nameless 
dainties.  Mrs.  Kent  was  here,  and  there,  and  every 
where,  arranging  this  or  that,  and  directing  Betty, 
who  was  dressing  the  great  turkey.  Miss  Jane  was 
fretting  for  fear  her  dress,  which  was  still  at  the 
mantua-maker's,  Avould  not  be  completed  in  time 
for  her  to  dress  for  dinner.  Master  Bill  was  order 
ing  every  one,  and  strutting  about,  full  of  importance. 

For  once,  Clint  forgot  to  be  either  cross  or  unhappy. 
Everybody  was  so  cheerful  and  busy,  that  he  was  glad 
to  be  cheerful  and  busy  too.  He  willingly  went, 
for  the  third  time  that  morning,  to  inquire  if  Jane's 
dress  was  finished.  It  was  just  completed,  and  the 
mantua-maker  was  carefully  wrapping  it  in  paper. 
Jane  received  it  with  delight,  and  hastened  away  to 
array  herself  in  it. 

"Here,  Clint,  you  luzy  dog,  take  my  boots  and 
black 'em!"  cried  Bill. 

Clint  had  gone  to  work  with  a  right  good  will, 
when  Jane  returned  to  display  herself  to  the  admiring 
eyes  of  Betty. 

"0  my!  Miss  Jane,  you  look  fit  for  a  queen," 
cried  Betty,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  the  vain  girl. 
Jane  was  really  looking  finely.  Her  beautiful  dark 
hair  was  arranged  very  tastefully,  and  the  new  dress, 
which  was  of  blue  thibet,  richly  embroidered,  set  off 
her  delicate  complexion  to  advantage. 


THE  ORPHAN'S  THANKSGIVING.        »   35 

'•'Do  you  think  so,  Betty?"  said  Jane,  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "I  wonder  if  cousin  Fred  will  call 
me  handsome,  as  lie  did  last  Thanksgiving,  when  we 
were  at  grandpa's?  " 

"I  dare  say  he  will."  said  Betty.  "But  you 
must  n't  stay  in  this  dirty  kitchen,  or  you  will  spoil 
your  fine  dress." 

As  Jane  swept  by  Clinton,  she  brushed  his  arm 
so  rudely  that  a  quantity  of  blacking,  in  the  brush 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  was  spattered  upon  the 
skirt  of  her  beloved  dress.  Though  it  was  an  acci 
dent,  and  she  the  only  one  to  blame,  she  fell  into  a 
violent  rage  with  Clint. 

"You  envious,  hateful  boy  !  you  have  spoiled  my 
beautiful  dress.  I  know  you  did  it  on  purpose ;  you 
could  n't  bear  to  see  me  looking  so  well,  so  you 
blacked  my  dress." 

Clint  was  really  sorry  for  the  mischief  he  had 
done,  but  he  wouldn't  say  so;  and  continued  his 
work  very  quietly.  His  apparent  indifference  exas 
perated  her  so  much  the  more,  and  she  cried,  pas 
sionately,  "  You  deserve  to  be  half  killed,  Clint 
Forrest !  Don't  care,  do  you  ?  I  should  black  your 
face  for  you  !  " 

"What  is  the  matter,  Jane?"  said  Mrs.  Kent, 
advancing  into  the  room. 

"Just  look  at  my  dress,  mother,"  said  Jane,  half 
crying.  "  Clint  threw  some  blacking  on  it.  He 
could  n't  be  satisfied  with  blacking  Bill's  boots,  so  he 
must  black  my  dress." 

"  Is  that  true?"  said  Mrs.  Kent,  angrily. 

"Yes,  indeed,  it  is,  ma'm,"  said  Betty,  who  always 
joined  with  the  rest  in  the  cry  against  Clinton.  "  I 
saw  him  do  it  myself." 

"You  wicked  boy  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Kent,  seizing  him 
by  the  arm,  and  shaking  him  violently.  "I'll  see  if 


36  «  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

I  can't  teach  you  better  than  that !  If  I  did  n't  ex 
pect  my  company  every  minute,  I  'd  get  a  stick  and 
whip  you  till  you  could  n't  stand  !  But  you  an't 
going  unpunished.  You  shan't  have  one  mouthful  of 
Thanksgiving  dinner.  Betty,  you  see  that  he  has 
nothing  hut  brown  bread  and  milk." 

Betty  promised  obedience,  and  Mrs.  Kent  turned 
to  examine  more  particularly  the  injury  her  daugh 
ter's  dress  had  sustained. 

"  It  isn't  quite  spoiled,  after  all,  Jane.  It  can  be 
easily  repaired ;  for  the  spot  is  close  to  the  seam.  You 
can  wear  your  silk  apron,  and  that  will  hide  it  to-day." 

The  mother  and  daughter  went  away  to  smooth 
their  ruffled  tempers  before  the  arrival  of  their  ex 
pected  guests.  Clinton  looked  after  them  with  a 
heart  swelling,  almost  bursting  with  anger.  He 
clinched  his  fist,  and  set  his  teeth  tightly  together,  in 
a  sort  of  suppressed  fury.  He  would  have  flown 
after  them,  and  torn  them  in  pieces,  so  terrible  was 
his  passion.  His  mind  could  not  remain  long  in  this 
state,  and  his  wrath  quickly  subsided.  He  thought 
of  the  delicious  feast  which  he  had  been  anticipating ; 
he  thought  of  the  expected  company.  He  had  fancied 
that  he  should  enjoy  seeing  the  children  play,  and 
perhaps,  as  they  did  n't  know  how  bad  he  was,  they 
would  ask  him  to  join  their  games.  He  sobbed  with 
grief  as  he  thought  that  all  his  enjoyment  for  the  day 
was  spoiled.  He  had  incurred  the  displeasure  of 
Mrs.  Kent,  and  he  knew  the  consequences  by  sad 
experience. 

Soon  he  heard  laughter  and  gay  greetings  in  tlic 
parlor,  and  he  knew  that  the  visitors  had  arrived. 
^  Why  have  n't  I  any  friends  ?  "  thought  he.  "  Why 
is  there  no  one  glad  to  see  me?  0,  I  know  Thanks- 
^vmg-days  were  not  made  for  such  boys  as  me  ;  for 
1  ^e  nothing  in  the  world  to  be  thankful  for  ! " 


THE  ORPHAN'S  THANKSGIVING.          •  37 

When  dinner  was  nearly  ready,  he  crept  into  the 
hall,  close  to  the  dining-room  door.  The  tinkling  of 
glasses,  the  rattling  of  cups,  and  the  clatter  of  knives 
and  forks,  were  tantalizing  to  the  poor  hungry  boy. 
A  flurry  of  snow  was  whitening  the  ground ;  the 
outer  door  was  open,  and  the  chilly  wind  swept 
through  the  hall,  making  him  shiver  with  cold.  Still 
he  remained  there,  listening,  as  if  in  fascination,  to  the 
conversation  of  the  happy  company  gathering  in  the 
dining-room.  There  was  a  momentary  hush,  and  he 
heard  a  manly  voice  craving  the  blessing  of  God 
before  they  partook  of  his  bounty.  A  scornful 
smile  played  over  Clint's  features  as  he  said  to  him 
self,  "0,  yes,  they  can  sit  down  to  their  grand 
dinner,  and  ask  God  to  bless  them,  while  they  don't 
care  if  Clint  starves  !  " 

After  a  short  time  the  parlor-door  opened,  and  a 
little  boy,  elegantly  dressed,  came  and  stood  upon 
the  door-step.  He  held  out  his  fat,  dimpled  hand, 
and  laughed  a  happy  laugh,  to  see  the  snow-flakes 
melt  upon  it.  Clint  watched  him  eagerly,  and  wished 
that  he  was  as  beautiful  and  happy.  Presently  a 
lady  appeared,  and  said,  in  a  sweet  voice,  "Willie, 
dear,  I'm  afraid  you  will  take  cold  if  you  stand  at 
the  door.  You  had  better  come  in  with  mamma." 
She  took  his  hand  gently,  and  looked  into  his  laugh 
ing  face  with  an  expression  of  pride  and  love. 

This  little  scene  affected  Clinton  strangely.  He 
felt  more  keenly  than  before  his  desolate  condition, 
and  he  began  to  weep.  He  feared  some  one  would 
hear  him,  and  he  rushed  out  of  the  house,  scarcely 
knowing  what  he  did 

Dr.  Clement's  family  were  gathered  in  the  cheerful 
parlor.  The  glowing  grate  and  sperm  candles  filled 
the  room  with  a  brilliant  light :  the  curtains  were 


88  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

drawn  down  early,  that,  as  Frank  said,  it  might  seem 
like  a  real  winter  evening.  Mrs.  May  and  her  little 
Dora  were  their  only  guests ;  for  they  had  no  rela 
tives  near  who  could  come  to  keep  Thanksgiving  with 
them. 

The  elder  people  were  conversing  cheerfully  to 
gether,  and  the  little  folks  were  seated  at  a  table, 
playing  a  game  of  "  Dr.  Busby,"  with  lively  interest. 
Altogether  it  was  just  such  a  cheerful,  happy  group 
as  you  doubtless  have  often  helped  to  form. 

Ann  came  in  to  ask  if  they  would  have  tea  in  the 
dining-room,  or  whether  it  should  be  brought  into  the 
parlor. 

"  0,  bring  it  in  here,  if  you  please,  Ann !  "  cried 
Elmina;  "  it  is  so  bright  and  pleasant  here  that  we 
should  like  it  much." 

"Yes,  let's  have  it  in  here/'  said  Frank.  "It 
will  be  much  pleasanter." 

Dr.  Clement  laughed  as  he  bade  Ann  do  as  the 
children  desired.  When  she  came  in  again  to  spread 
the  crumb-cloth,  she  said,  "Clint  Forrest  is  in  the 
kitchen,  looking  as  though  he  had  cried  himself  half 
to  death,  and  shivering  and  shaking  like  the  ague. 
I  Tve  no  idea  that  Mrs.  Kent  has  given  him  a  mouth 
ful  of  Thanksgiving  dinner." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  has,  either,"  said  Frank.  "It 
would  be  just  like  her  not  to." 

"Hush,  Frank,"  said  his  mother;  "you  are 
speaking  ill  of  another,  and  of  a  lady  too." 

"  I  don't  think  I  was  any  too  harsh,  mother  ;  but 
I  will  not  speak  so  again  if  you  think  it  wrong." 

"  I  am  unwilling  to  think  so  badly  of  anyone," 
said  Mrs.  Clinton.  "  You  know  we  should  not  judge 
others." 

"  Dora  and  I  may  go  out  and  speak  to  Clint,  may 
we  not,  mamma?"  said  .Uina. 


THE  ORPHAN'S  THANKSGIVING.  39 

"  Certainly,  my  love  ;  and,  if  be  is  unhappy,  try  to 
make  him  feel  better." 

They  found  Clint  crouching  over  the  kitchen  fire. 
His  hair  hung  wildly  about  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were 
swollen  and  distended  with  crying. 

"Why.  Clint,"  said  Mina,  "how  woful  you  look  ! 
What  is  the  matter  ?  ' ' 

Clint  turned  his  red  eyes  upon  her,  without  saying 
a  word. 

"You  should  look  happy  to-day,  Clint,  for  it  is 
Thanksgiving-day."  said  Dora. 

"What's  Thanksgiving-day  to  me,  I'd  like  to 
know  ?"  said  Clint,  moodily.  "  1  should  think  you  'd 
know  that  I  have  n't  anything  to  be  thankful  for." 

"Not  anything,  Clint?  An't  you  thankful  that 
you  are  alive  and  well  ?  " 

"  No,  riot  that !     I  wish  I  was  dead,  I  do  !  " 

The  little  girls  were  shocked.  "I'm  very  sorry 
for  you,"  said  Mina,  tearfully.  "Dora  and  I  have 
been  as  happy  as  birds  all  day,  playing,  and  laughing, 
and  singing." 

"  And  I  have  been  crying,  and  freezing,  and  starv 
ing,  all  day,"  said  Clint,  bitterly. 

"  Starving  !  "  cried  Mina  and  Dora,  with  grief  and 
terror.  "  Starving,  Clint  !  " 

"Don't  be  frightened,  girls,"  said  Clint.  "I  an't 
dead  yet,  for  I  had  some  supper  last  night." 

"  But  have  n't  you  had  anything  to  eat  to-day  ? :; 
asked  Dora,  ia  great  anxiety.  . 

1 '  No.  I  forgot  to  eat  any  breakfast,  I  was  so  busy 
doing  errands ;  and  Mrs.  Kent  said  that,  to  punish 
me.  I  should  n't  have  anything  but  brown  bread  and 
milk  for  my  dinner.  I  would  n't  eat  that,  when  they 
had  such  a  nice  dinner,  if  I  starved  1 ' ' 

"  Neither  would  I.  Clint,  if  I  were  you,"  said  Dora. 
"I  wouldn't  live  with  such  a  mean  woman." 


40  THE   HARVEST  OF    LOVE. 

"0  dear,  I  can't  help  myself!7'  said  Clint,  resum 
ing  his  moody  look  and  tone. 

"  I  will  run  and  ask  my  mother  to  come  out 
here,"  said  Mina.  "I  know  she  will  give  you 
some  supper." 

Mrs.  Clement  soon  appeared,  and  arranged,  with 
her  own  hand,  a  tempting  supper  for  Clint.  But  the 
poor  boy  was  too  sick  and  unhappy  to  eat.  His  long 
stay  out  of  doors,  together  with  crying,  made  him 
feel  quite  ill.  He  pushed  the  plate  away,  and  sobbed 
out  that  "  he  was  too  sick  to  eat ;  that  his  head  ached 
dreadfully." 

"I  do  not  doubt  it.  poor  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Clement, 
"for  it  feels  very  hot  to  my  hand."  She  gently 
bathed  the  aching  head,  and  smoothed  his  tangled 
hair ;  meanwhile,  talking  so  soothingly  and  kindly, 
that  his  sad  heart  was  filled  with  gratitude. 

Dr.  Clement  said  the  boy  would  be  ill  with  a  fever 
unless  he  was  doctored.  He  led  him  home,  and  bade 
Betty  bathe  his  feet  in  warm  water,  and  make  him 
drink  plentifully  of  ginger-tea.  Betty  was  naturally 
kind-hearted,  and,  conscience  telling  her  that  Clint 
had  been  used  too  hardly,  she  obeyed  the  doctor's 
orders  to  the  very  letter, 


CHAPTER    V. 

SCHOOL   SCENES. 

«'  may  prove, 

Though  some  may  wonder  at  his  weakness, 
The  power  that  lurks  in  simple  love, 
The  might  of  meekness  ! ' ' 

GENTLE,  sunny,  smiling  spring  had  changed  the 
Frowns  of  winter  into  tears,  which  April  poured  upon 
the  earth,  bringing  to  life  the  sleeping  flowers,  to 
adorn  the  robe  of  her  sister  May.  The  children 
clapped  their  hands  and  shouted ;  the  birds  trilled 
their  glad  notes  in  ecstasy;  the  cascades  and  waterfalls 
bounded  and  dashed  along,  as  if  mad  with  delight ; 
the  Avaving  trees  whispered  to  each  other  of  their 
happiness,  arid  all  nature  laughed  in  the  sunny 
spring-time  1 

The  old  red  school-house,  which  had  been  closed 
for  two  months,  was  now  opened,  and  troops  of  happy 
school  children  Avere  hastening  to  make  it  echo  again 
to  the  hum  of  their  voices,  and  brighten  in  the  light 
of  their  smiles. 

Elinina  and  Dora  started  early,  that  they  might 
have  time  to  go  to  "Happy  Nook."  They  were 
rejoiced  to  find  that  spring  had  not  forgotten  to  visit 
it  before  them  ;  they  thought  the  brook  was  wider 
than  ever  before,  the  grass  greener,  and  the  little 
star-flowers  that  hid  themselves  at  the  foot  of  the 
rock  were  fairer  and  brighter. 

(41) 


42  THE   HARVES1    OF   LOVE. 

Something  splashing  in  the  water  started  them,  and 
they  saw  Clinton  Forrest  lying  on  the  bank  close  to 
the  brook.  He  smiled,  and  showed  them  his  pockets 
fall  of  pebbles. 

"  AVhat  are  you  going  to  do  with  them,  Clinton  ?  " 
asked  Mina. 

"0,  I  'm  going  to  roll  them  round  the  school- 
house,  to  plague  the  'school-marm.'  Won't  it  be 
fun?" 

"What  do  you  want  to  plague  her  for,  Clint? 
You  don't  know  but  Miss  Lee  will  be  very  kind." 

"  But  she  won't  be  kind  to  me. — teachers  never 
are ;  they  always  bate  me,  and  I  like  to  plague  'em. 
And  I  am  growing  large,"  he  continued,  stretching 
himself  to  his  full  height.  "I  won't  be  whipped  by 
a  woman  many  times  more  !  O,  I  shall  have  glori 
ous  times  this  summer  !  I  shall  tease  the  teacher  till 
she  '11  wish  she  had  never  come  to  Oakville." 

Elmina  looked  at  him  sadly.  ':  Clinton,  had  n't 
you  rather  be  a  good  boy,  and  try  to  please  your 
teacher  ?  Perhaps  Miss  Lee-  wants  to  love  all  her 
scholars,  and  she  will  feel  sad  to  hare  you  so 
naughty." 

"It  is  of  no  use  for  me  to  try  to  be  good,  I'm 
so  wicked.  They  all  say  that  I  am  the  worst  boy  in 
school." 

"Yes.  there  is  use  in  it ! "  cried  Elmina.  "Do 
try,  Clint,  just  to  please  me.  Be  a  good  boy  all  sum 
mer,  and  we  all  shall  love  you.  I  don't  think  you  are 
the  worst  boy  —  do  try  and  be  the  best." 

Her  words  produced  some  effect  on  him,  and  he 
began  to  drop  the  pebbles  one  by  one  upon  the  grass. 
"But  I  am  so  ragged  and  dirty,  Elmina:  I  believe 
that  is  half  what  makes  me  so  bad." 

"You  needn't  be  dirty,"  said  Dora:  "you  Ct*a 
wash  your  hands  and  face  in  the  bvook  " 


SCHOOL   SCENES.  43 

"  So  I  can.  I  never  thought  of  that."  So  saying, 
he  threw  the  last  stone  into  the  water,  and,  kneeling 
on  the  bank,  thoroughly  washed  himself.  Mina  took 
a  comb  from  her  pocket  and  smoothed  his  glossy  black 
hair. 

"0,  Clint,  you  look  quite  handsome  !"  cried  Dora, 
gleefully. 

"Yes,  indeed,  you  do,"  said  Mina.  "You  may 
have  this  little  comb  for  your  own,  and  then  you  can 
always  keep  your  hair  smooth.  Now  you  are  going 
to  be  a  real  good  boy,  an't  you,  Clint  ?  " 

"  I  '11  try.  dear,  sweet,  little  Mina ;  but  it  won't 
do  much  good." 

"There  goes  the  nine  o'clock  bell,"  said  Dora. 
"How  late  we  have  stayed!  Come,  Clint,  you  go 
with  us." 

As  the  three  children  came  up  the  bank  behind  the 
school-house,  Mr.  Kent,  who  was  passing  by,  cried 
out,  "Ah,  Clint!  I've  caught  you.  Trying  to  be 
tardy  the  first  day,  are  you  ?  It  is  past  school-time, 
you  lazy  boy.  Come  along,  and  I  ;11  give  you  an 
introduction  to  the  teacher.  She  needs  a  little  warn^ 
ing  about  such  a  precious  fellow  as  you." 

Mr.  Kent  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  pulled  him  into 
the  house.  "Here,  Miss  Lee,"  he  said,  addressing  a 
beautiful  young  lady  who  stood  near  the  door,  "here 
is  Clinton  Forrest.  He  is  a  promising  youth,  I  tell 
you.  He  needs  a  flogging  twice  a  day,  to  keep  him 
within  bounds.  I  will  uphold  you  in  governing  him ; 
BO  you  needn't  spare  the  rod." 

"  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  for  your  son,  sir." 

"  He  is  no  son  of  mine,  I  'd  have  you  understand, 
miss.  He  has  no  relations  'round  here  ;  and  we  have 
concluded  that  he  is  a  relative  of  the  Evil  One.  He 's 
a  trial,  believe  me.  I  thought  it  might  save  you  some 
trouble  if  I  warned  you." 


44  THE  HARVEST  OF  LOVE. 

Dora  and  Elmina  threw  after  the  retreating  form 
of  Mr.  Kent  most  indignant  glances.  After  such  an 
introduction  as  that,  they  feared  Clint  would  fulfil  all 
his  pleasant  prophecies.  They  watched  the  counte 
nance  of  Miss  Lee.  who,  with  a  look  of  pity,  placed 
her  white  hand  on  Clint's  finely-shaped  head. 

'•I  think  the  gentleman  said  your  name  is  Clinton. 
That  is  a  pretty  name ;  and  I  am  fond  of  pleasant 
names." 

Clint  was  looking  hard  upon  the  ground.  The 
cheerful  light,  which  a  few  minutes  before  brightened 
his  face,  was  now  darkened,  and  the  happy  feeling  in 
his  heart  was  changed  to  resentment.  Miss  Lee  saw 
how  it  was,  and  endeavored  to  remove  these  feelings. 

"I  hope  you  are  a  good  scholar.  Clinton;  for.  if 
you  are  not  one  already,  I  know  by  the  form  of  your 
head  that  you  can  learn  readily.  Look  up.  my  boy, 
and  see  if  you  don't  agree  with  me,  in  thinking  we 
shall  be  excellent  friends." 

Clint  threw  a  sidelong  glance  at  her,  and  hastened 
to  his  seat,  while  she  turned  with  a  winning  smile  to 
the  other  scholars.  He  eagerly  studied  the  personal 
appearance  of  Miss  Lee.  The  survey  was  very  satis 
factory  to  him,  for  he  pronounced  her,  in  his  own 
mind,  an  angel ;  there  instantly  sprung  up  in  his 
heart  a  reverence  that  he  had  never  felt  for  any  one 
before. 

Josephine  Lee  was  well  worthy  the  love  and  admi 
ration  which  she  inspired  in  the  hearts  of  her  pupils. 
Her  beautiful  brown  eye  expressed  the  kindliest  emo 
tions.  Her  face  was  one  of  rare  loveliness,  whose 
greatest  charm  was  a  mingled  expression  of  intellect 
and  sweetness. 

She  had  not  lightly  or  carelessly  assumed  the  holy 
and  responsible  duties  of  a  teacher ;  an  earnestness, 
a  depth  of  purpose  expressed  itself  in  every  word  and 


SCHOOL    SCENES.  45 

motion.  She  would  not  labor  alone  in  the  priceless 
mines  of  intellect,  but  would  strive  to  mould  aright 
the  moral  natures,  the  affections  of  her  .pupils.  Every 
look,  every  word  of  hers  might  influence  some  un 
formed  character,  and  her  hourly  endeavor  was  that 
this  influence  might  be  pure  and  good. 

Josephine  was  shocked  at  the  unkind  words  of  Mr. 
Kent,  in  introducing  Clinton  to  her.  She  trembled 
at  the  thought  of  the  responsibility  resting  upon  her 
in  the  care  of  such  a  boy.  This  she  resolved,  how 
ever,  that,  as  severity  had  hitherto  failed  to  improve 
him,  she  would  try  the  potency  of  love  and  kindness. 
There  was  something  about  the  countenance  of  the 
boy  that  drew  her  irresistibly  towards  him.  Once, 
when  she  observed  him  regarding  her  with  a  pleading 
look,  a  strange  and  sudden  feeling  brought  the  pearl- 
drop  to  her  eye.  From  that  moment  she  loved  the 
little,  friendless  boy,  and,  with  all  the  energy  of  her 
enthusiastic  nature,  she  sought  to  lead  him  to  the 
"green  pastures"  and  beside  the  "living  waters." 

Clinton  remembered  what  his  teacher  said  about 
his  capacity  for  learning,  and  he  devoted  himself  in 
cessantly  to  study  the  whole  day.  Those  who  had 
heard  him  boast  of  the  fun  he  was  going  to  have  in 
vexing  the  teacher,  laughed  at  him,  and  tried  to  get 
him  into  a  quarrel  at  recess.  "0,  Clint  is  terrible 
good  all  at  once  ! "  said  Jane  Kent.  "  Miss  Lee  flat 
tered  him  up  a  little ;  but  you  wait  a  day  or  two,  and 
see  if  he  don't  commence  his  old  pranks." 

"  If  I  were  you,  Jane,"  said  Frank  Clement,  "I 
would  encourage  him  to  be  good,  instead  of  laughing 
at  him." 

"Wonder  if  Frank  Clement  hasn't  taken  sides 
against  us  ?  "  cried  Bill  Kent. 

"If  he  has,  we  will  pitch  battle  on  him,  instead 


46  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

of  Clint.  He'll  like  that  famously,"  shouted  John 
Carter. 

The  two  boys  set  up  a  derisive  laugh,  in  which  a 
few  others  joined.  But  the  majority  of  them  waited 
for  Frank's  reply ;  for  he  was  a  great  favorite  with 
them. 

"  Boys,"  said  Frank,  taking  off  his  hat,  and  step 
ping  upon  a  log,  like  a  "stump-orator,"  "boys,  you 
know,  and  I  know,  that  Clint  Forrest  has  always 
been  abused  !  He  could  n't  have  been  a  decent  boy 
if  he  had  tried.  I  see  our  teacher  thinks  she  can 
make  something  of  him,  and  I  am  going  to  help  her. 
Sister  Mina  and  Dora  May  are  already  his  friends, 
and  I  count  myself  one  from  this  minute.  And  I  '11 
say  this  for  you,  boys,  that  he  who  tries  to  hinder  him 
from  becoming  better  and  more  respected,  is  meaner 
than  I  ever  wish  to  be  !  " 

The  tide  of  favor  turned  in  behalf  of  Clinton.  It 
was  amazing  to  see  how  the  scholars  patronized  him, 
and  protected  him  from  the  assaults  of  the  "  enemy," 
as  they  styled  the  few  who  would  not  respond  to 
Frank's  speech.  When  Clinton  continued  to  go  to 
school  with  clean  hands  and  face,  and  smooth  hair, 
and  still  continued  to  be  studious  and  obedient,  the 
older  and  more  thoughtful  ones  felt  reproaches  of 
conscience  that  they  had  not  been  kinder  to  him  be 
fore.  He  was  like  one  in  a  happy  dream,  and.  very 
unlike  his  former  self,  gentle  and  submissive. 

The  winning  kindness  of  Miss  Lee,  together  with 
the  good-will  of  his  playfellows,  acted  like  a  charm 
upon  Clinton.  For  weeks  there  was  no  better  boy  in 
school.  But  he  lacked  principle,  and  the  influence 
of  former  good  habits,  to  keep  him  in  the  right  way. 
He  gradually  flagged  in  his  study ;  grew  indolent, 
and  often  grieved  his  gentle  teacher  by  his  miscon 
duct.  Josephine  was  partly  prepared  for  this  reac- 


bCHOOL  SCENES.  47 

tion.  Young  and  inexperienced  as  she  was.  she 
understood  human  nature  too  well  to  think  the  heart, 
rendered  cold  and  distrustful  by  long  neglect  and 
cruelty,  could  so  easily  be  imbued  with  love  and  con 
fidence.  Habits  of  indolence  and  disobedience  are 
hard  to  overcome,  and  Clinton  had  little  to  encourage 
him  in  well-doing. 

0,  how  earnestly  did  that  youthful  teacher  strive 
to  lead  her  wayward  pupil  into  higher  and  brighter 
paths  !  Clinton  loved  the  sweet  girl  who  was  so 
gentle  and  patient  with  him  ;  but  he  did  not  under 
stand  her,  he  could  not  appreciate  her.  Sometimes 
he  made  feeble  efforts  to  regain  her  good  opinion  ;  but 
he  was  drawn  backward  by  the  power  of  his  whole 
previous  life. 

One  Monday  morning.  William  and  Jane  Kent,  and 
Clinton,  were  absent  from  school.  Upon  inquii-y,  Miss 
Lee  found  that  William  and  Jane  had  gone  to  the  city 
to  spend  a  week.  "But  where  is  Clinton?"  she 
asked  of  a  bright-eyed  boy  near  her. 

"  0,  I  guess  Clint  is  going  to  try  his  old  fashion 
of  playing  truant !  " 

The  little  Yankee  was  right;  for  Clint  was  not  seen 
in  school  that  week. 

Saturday  night,  when  the  last  busy  little  form  had 
passed  gayly  over  the  threshold,  when  the  last  sweet 
"good-night"  had  been  said,  Josephine  sat  alone  in 
the  hushed  school-room.  A  pile  of  copy-books  were 
before  her  ;  but  these  arranged,  and  her  week's  work 
would  be  done.  As  she  reviewed  the  week,  the  voice 
of  conscience  was  sweet  and  approving  ;  and  her  heart 
was  tuned  to  happy  and  pleasing  emotions.  While 
bending  dreamily  over  her  task,  a  harsh  voice  jarred 
on  the  harmony  of  her  feelings. 

"  Here,  Miss  Lee,  I've  brought  you  the  rogue  !  " 
cried  Mr.  Kent,  as  he  rudely  dragged  Clinton  Forrest 


48  THE   HARVEST   OP   LOVE. 

into  her  presence.  "  Why,  he  has  been  playing  truant 
for  a  week,  and  I  did  not  find  it  out  till  to-night. 
Don't  you  look  at  me  so,  you  young  rascal  !  "  he 
continued,  angrily  shaking  the  scowling  boy.  "  I  've 
given  him  one  good  flogging,  miss,  and  now  I've 
brought  him  here  for  you  to  punish  ;  and  I  hope  you 
will  do  your  duty  by  him." 

"  I  shall  endeavor  to  do  my  duty,  sir,"  was  the 
firm,  but  gentle  reply. 

After  answering  a  few  inquiries  about  his  family, 
the  angry  man  went  away,  leaving  Josephine  and  the 
young  culprit  alone. 

Stubborn  resolution  spoke  loudly  in  the  attitude  of 
the  boy,  whose  head  was  thrown  proudly  back,  while 
he  eyed  Josephine  with  a  defiant  air.  Though  he  had 
suffered  for  his  misconduct,  he  was  nothing  softened. 
Josephine  looked  upon  him  more  sorrowfully  than 
reproachfully.  He  could  not  bear  that  look,  and 
dropped  his  head  suddenly.  One  fair  hand  was  laid 
''mid  his  dark  locks,  while  the  other  clasped  gently  his 
unresisting  hand.  As  yet,  no  word  had  been  spoken  ; 
but  the  whole  appearance  of  the  boy  was  changed. 
Josephine's  resolution  was  taken.  This  should  be  the 
golden  moment  that  should  fill  that  child-heart  with 
true  penitence  and  new-born  resolutions. 

"  Clinton,  sit  down  by  me,  I  want  to  talk  with  you 
a  while." 

The  child  wonderingly  obeyed. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  true  story  about  myself. 
Clinton.  Not  long  ago  I  lived  with  a  kind  father 
and  mother,  and  two  dear  brothers.  We  were  very 
happy,  till  one  sad  day  my  oldest  brother  went  away, 
and  I  have  never  heard  from  him  since.  Then  my 
dear  father  and  mother  died,  and  Charlie  and  I  were 
left  alone.  0,  how  I  loved  little  Charlie  !  He  was 
a  dear  little  fellow,  just  about  your  size,  with  black 


SCHOOL   SCENES.  49 

eyes  and  curly  hair.  The  first  few  days  of  school, 
when  you  were  a  good  boy,  I  thought  you  were  like 
him.  But  the  good  God  loved  him  better  than  I,  and 
took  him.  too,  to  heaven.  0,  Clint,  I  \vas  so  sad  and 
lonely,  then  !  " 

She  ceased  speaking,  and  wept  silently.  Clinton 
forgot  everything  but  his  interest  in  the  story,  and 
leaned  his  head  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  When  I  came  to  Oakville,"  she  resumed,  "I  was 
a  stranger ;  but  I  soon  found  friends  among  my  schol 
ars.  There  was  one  that  reminded  me  of  my  little 
brother  that  died  ;  and  my  heart  went  out  to  him  in 
love.  People  told  me  that  he  Avas  n't  a  good  boy  ; 
that  he  would  return  my  love  in  bad  conduct ;  but  1 
did  n't  believe  it.  When  I  learned  that  he,  too,  was 
a  lonely  orphan,  I  loved  him  all  the  more.  I  said 
to  myself  that  I  would  have  him  for  my  brother ; 
and  every  morning  have  I  prayed  God  to  bless  him. 
.Clinton,  do  you  know  who  that  little  boy  is  ?  " 

The  child  bowed  his  head. 

"  How  do  you  think  my  love  arid  kindness  have 
been  returned  ?  "  * 

Clinton  did  not  heed  the  question  ;  but  asked,  in  a 
trembling  voice,  <;  Did  you  really  think  I  might  be 
your  brother?  Is  it  true  that  you  prayed  for  me  ?  '' 

"  Do  you  not  believe  my  word,  Clinton  ?  " 

"  Yes,  0.  yes  —  but  if  I  had  only  known  it !  —  if 
I  could  have  known  it !  "  And  he  burst  into  a  pas 
sion  of  tears.  There  was  a  depth  of  anguish,  of  self- 
reproach,  in  the  tones,  that  thrilled  Josephine's  heart. 

':  If  I  had  known  that  you  loved  me  so,  I  would 
have  been  so  good  !  I  would  have  done  anything  for 
you.  But  I've  been  very  bad,  and  still  you  prayed 
for  me  —  0,  dear  !  " 

He  wept  so  bitterly  that  Josephine  was  much  affected. 
She  had  not  thought  to  touch  his  heart  so  deeply.  She 
4 


50  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

soothed  him  with  kindness,  and  then  told  him  of  his 
good  Father  in  heaven ;  of  His  infinite  love.  She 
tried  to  impress  upon  his  mind  good  resolutions.  She 
showed  him  that  the  reward  of  obedience  is  happiness, 
and  that  of  disobedience  is  misery. 

"  Nobody  ever  told  me  that,  before,  Miss  Lee.  Mrs. 
Kent  told  me  that  God  hated  such  a  wicked  boy  as  I. 
She  said  't  would  do  no  good  for  me  to  go  to  meeting 
or  Sunday-school,  for  I  was  so  bad.  But,  if  God  is 
really  my  Father,  I  will  try  to  be  good  ;  if  he  loves 
me,  I  will  be  good  !  " 

"  Then,"  said  Josephine,  joyfully,  "  I  shall  not  be 
sorry  that  I  have  borne  with  your  faults.  I  shall  be 
proud  to  call  you  brother  !  " 

Clinton  sprang  to  his  feet.  Newly  awakened  con 
fidence  and  hope  shone  brightly  on  his  tearful  face. 
He  caught  her  hand  and  covered  it  with  kisses. 
"  Dear  Miss  Lee,';  he  cried,  "you  shan't  say  again 
that  I  returned  your  love  in  bad  conduct.  You  shall- 
yet  be  proud  of  me  !  " 

Such  is  the  influence  of  love  !  0,  how  many  chil 
dren,  poor  and  friendless,  are  treading  the  downward 
path,  and  there  is  no  hand  stretched  forth  to  save  ! 

"  The  heart  must 
Lcat)  kindlv  back  to  kindness." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

PLANS  FOR  CLINTON'S  IMPROVEMENT. 

"  TTie  bud  that  cold  winds  nipt  at  first, 

A  happier  lot  may  know  ; 
In  warmer  airs  to  life  may  burst, 
In  brighter  sunshine  glow. ' ' 

"  G  DOB-EVENING,  dear  Josephine;  I  am  truly  happy 
to  see  you,"  said  Mrs.  Clement,  affectionately  embrac 
ing  her  young  friend.  There  was  a  sincerity  in  her 
tones,  which  made  her  youthful  guest  perfectly  at 
home,  and  sent  a  glow  of  grateful  feeling  to  the 
heart.  Kindred  spirits  are  quick  to  recognize  each 
other.  Noble  and  pure  minds  are  attracted  with 
instinctive  confidence.  The  most  elevated  friend 
ships  are  not  always  the  result  of  long  and  con 
tinued  intercourse,  or  similarity  of  age  and  circum 
stances.  It  is  the  affinity  of  mind  and,  heart  that 
links  two  souls  with  an  invisible,  yet  ever-strengthen 
ing  chain.  Mrs.  Clement  had  already  learned  to 
love  Josephine  Lee  almost  as  a  young  and  guileless 
sister.  The  beautiful  earnestness  with  which  she 
performed  her  new  and  arduous  duties,  the  united 
gentleness  and  energy  of  .her  character,  won  the  love 
and  admiration  of  Mrs.  Clement.  Josephine,  on  her 
part,  fully  appreciated  the  worth  of  the  regard  of  such 
a  woman,  and  returned  her  friendship  with  an  enthu 
siastic,  reverential  affection,  which  was  truly  character 
istic.  Josephine  confided  the  story  of  her  life  to  Mrs. 

(51) 


52  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

Clement,  and  was  rewarded  with  that  sympathy 
which  is  so  grateful  to  a  heart  made  sensitive  by  the 
breath  of  affliction.  Now  she  had  come  to  her  friend 
for  encouragement  and  advice.  It  was  just  after  her 
affecting  interview  with  Clinton  Forrest,  and  she 
desired  the  influence  of  Mrs.  Clement  in  forwarding 
her  plans  for  his  improvement. 

Perhaps  a  few  words  here,  in  reference  to  Joseph 
ine's  previous  life,  may  not  be  out  of  place.  Three 
years  had  passed  since  her  elder  brother  ran  away 
to  sea.  He  had  been  a  wayward  boy,  causing  his 
friends  much  grief,  and  this  last  act  broke  the  father's 
heart.  Mr.  Lee's  health  had  been  declining  for  some 
time,  and  he  now  sank  rapidly  into  the  arms  of  death. 
Mrs.  Lee  soon  followed  him  to  that  unseen  shore,  and 
Josephine  and  little  Charlie  were  left  alone.  The 
little  boy  languished  with  some  hidden  disease,  and, 
after  months  of  patient  watching  by  his  bedside,  the 
weeping  sister  laid  him  beside  his  sleeping  parents. 

Poor  Josephine  !  it  seemed  as  though  her  young 
heart  would  break.  There  were  kind  friends  to  wipe 
away  her  tears,  and  speak  sweet  words  of  sympathy ; 
but  he  whose  manly  arm  should  have  been  her  sup 
port  was  far  away,  an  erring  wanderer. 

But  our  young  friend  Avas  not  one  to  sit  down  and 
brood  over  her  sorrows ;  and,  when  the  first  storm  of 
grief  had  subsided,  she  resolved  to  procure  a  situation 
as  teacher.  The  family  with  whom  she  then  resided 
begged  her  to  stay  with  them,  for  they  loved  her,  and 
would  gladly  have  called  her  their  daughter.  Though 
she  thanked  them  with  a  grateful  heart,  the  independ 
ence  of  her  spirit  would  not  allow  her  to  accept  the 
proffered  kindness. 

When  Josephine  Lee  went  to  Oakville,  the  tendrils 
of  her  heart  were  bleeding  and  torn,  but  ready  to 
twine  again  round  new  and  worthy  objects.  The 


PLANS   FOR   CLIXl'OX'S   IMPROVEMENT.  bo 

affection  that  she  craved  was  almost  spontaneously 
yielded  her  by  all  who  came  within  the  sphere  of  her 
influence.  She  seemed  to  possess  a  magical  power 
over  the  hearts  of  her  pupils ;  and  when  the  parents 
of  those  children  looked  upon  her  face,  eloquent  with 
purity  and  truth,  they  felt  that  they  had  trusted  them 
to  a  gentle  and  virtuous  guide. 

Elmina  observed  the  unusual  warmth  of  her  mother's 
greeting ;  for,  though  she  was  uniformly  kind  and 
polite  to  all,  the  child  felt  that  there  was  a  bond  of 
respect  and  affection  between  her  beloved  mother  and 
dear  teacher.  She  sprang  forward  with  a  joyful  face, 
exclaiming,  "  0,  mamma,  I  am  glad  you  love  our 
darling,  Josie  Lee  so  much  !  "' 

The  two  ladies  exchanged  expressive  glances,  and 
then  Josie  bent  down  and  caressed  the  lovely  Mina. 
There  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  of  mingled  pleasure  and 
pain;  for  the  warmth  of  her  welcome,  and  the  loving 
tones  of  Mina,  brought  vividly  to  her  mind  the  dear 
faces  of  her  -:  loved  and  lost." 

"Why  do  you  cry.  dear  teacher?"  said  the  child. 
"  An't  you  glad  I  love  you  so  much?  " 

«/  o  */ 

"Yes,  darling,  your  love  is  very  precious  to  me. 
It  made  me  think  how  my  brother  Charlie  loved  hia 
sister  Josie. :; 

"0,  tell  me  about  that  little  Charlie,  please,  Miss 
Lee  ! " 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  him  some  time,  Mina,  but 
to-night  I  wish  to  talk  with  your  mamma  about  poor 
Clinton  Forest." 

"  0  yes,  do  talk  about  Clint!  "  said  Elmina,  "for 
I  know  you  will  say  kind  words  about  him."  She 
placed  her  cricket  between  her  mother  and  Josephine, 
and  folded  her  hands  demurely  to  listen  to  the  con 
versation. 

Josephine  modestly  and  briefly  related  the  story  of 


54  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

her  interview  with  CKnton  in  the  school-room.  Hi3 
evident  contrition  gave  her  hope  that  she  might  suc 
ceed  in  her  plan  of  making  him  better  and  happier. 
Mrs.  Clement  listened  with  pleasure  and  admiration. 

"  That  was  nobly  done,  my  dear  Josie.  I  see  you 
understand  something  of  human  nature.  If  there  is 
anything  that  will  make  him  better,  it  is  love  and 
kindness.  The  poor  boy  has  received  but  little  of 
either.  I  fear." 

"It  is  evident  he  has  not,"  said  Josephine  ;  "for 
he  appeared  really  overcome  by  my  expressions  of 
affection  and  confidence.  I  have  great  hopes  of  him 
yet,  for  I  am  satisfied  that  his  natural  gifts  of  mind 
and  heart  are  truly  superior." 

"  I  agree  with  you  perfectly,"  said  Mrs.  Clement; 
"  he  is  not  a  vicious-looking  boy.  He  often  comes  in 
here  of  an  errand,  and  I  have  seen  his  young  face 
radiant  with  gratitude,  and  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  at 
just  a  kindly  word  from  me.  My  little  Mina,  here, 
has  always  been  his  champion,  and  one  reason  why 
she  loves  you  so  very  dearly  is  because  of  your 
patience  with  Clinton." 

"I  am  glad  you  approve  of  my  course  with  him, 
Mrs.  Clement.  I  have  felt  anxious  and  discouraged, 
so  many  .have  told  me  that  I  was  altogether  wrong 
in  hoping  to  reform  him  by  persuasion.  I  find  that 
he  has  never  received  any  religious  instruction.  Do 
you  not  think  that,  if  he  should  go  regularly"  to  meet 
ing  and  Sunday-school,  it  might  have  a  good  effect  ? 
I  should  be  glad  to  receive  him  into  my  class  in  tho 
Sabbath-school." 

"  Indeed,-  Josephine,  I  think  it  very  important 
that  he  should  go  to  the  Sunday-school.  But  there 
is  one  difficulty ;  Mrs.  Kent  will,  I  fear,  oppose  his 
going ;  and  you  know  it  will  be  useless  for  us  to  plan 
anything  without  her  cooperation." 


PLANS  FOR  CLINTON'S  IMPROVEMENT.        55 

"Can  you  not  persuade  her,  Mrs.  Clement?  '  said 
Josephine.  "  Do  represent  the  case  to  her  in  such  a 
light  that  she  will  at  least  give  a  passive  consent. 
My  heart  is  set  upon  having  him  for  a  Sabbath-school 
scholar." 

':I  will  try,"  said  Mrs.  Clement,  smiling  at  her 
earnestness.  "  I  will  try  to  soften  her  heart.  I  may 
get  a  ' passive  consent,'  as  you  say;  but  I  am  sure  it 
will  take  more  genius  than  I  possess  to  enlist  her 
heart  on  our  side.  Frank  has  several  suits  of  clothes 
which  he  has  outgrown,  and  I  dare  say  that  I  could 
dress  Clint  nicely.  I  will  call  upon  Mrs.  Kent  to 
morrow,  and  do  the  best  I  can  for  the  boy.  I  feel  a 
'presentiment  that  he  will  yet  do  credit  to  your  teach 
ing.  Josie." 

"I  felt  confident  that  you  would  be  interested  in 
my  plans.  Mrs.  Clement.  You  have  made  me  very 
happy.  I  had  begun  to  fear  that  I  was  too  inexpe 
rienced  for  a  teacher." 

'•My  dear  Josie.'''  said  Mrs.  Clement,  with  a  look 
of  affection,  "an  earnest,  loving  heart  like  yours  can 
do  wonders,  even  with  your  little  experience.  I  feel 
reproved  for  my  own  thoughtlessness  and  inactivity 
by  your  eagerness  to  do  some  good." 

'•  You  feel  reproved  by  my  conduct !  "  cried  Joseph 
ine.  "  You,  whom  everybody  looks  up  to  with  admi 
ration  and  respect!" — Mina  interrupted  her  by 
exclaiming,  "  0  mamma,  there  is  good,  old  Mrs. 
Wilkins  coming  up  the  garden  walk,  with  broihtT 
Frank  !  I  :rn  going  to  run  out  and  meet  her." 

Through  an  open  window,  Mrs.  Clement  and 
Josephine  saw  an  old  lady  toiling  up  the  path,  while 
Frank  ran  on  before,  and  then  helped  her  up  the 
steps  with  rare  gallantry.  Mrs.  Clement  Avent  for 
ward  and  kindly  helped  her  guest  to  an  easy-chair; 


56  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

for,  between  her  late  exertions  and  the  glad  caresses 
of  Elmina.  she  seemed  quite  out  of  breath. 

"I  do  declare.  Miss  Clement'  your  Frank  is  a 
perfect  little  gentleman,  —  a  perfect  gentleman ! 
Why,  his  father,  AY  horn  everybody  calls  the  very 
pink  of  politeness,  could  n't  have  waited  upon  mo 
better  !"  said  the  old  lady,  panting. 

"  I  am  glad  that  Frank  knows  how  to  profit  by  his 
father's  good  example,'''  said  Mrs.  Clement,  smiling 
sweetly  upon  the  boy,  who.  after  bowing  to  Josephine, 
had  seated  himself  quietly  on  the  sofa.  Mrs.  Wil- 
kins  was  now  relieved  of  her  bonnet  and  parasol,  and. 
Josephine  was  presented  to  her. 

"Bless  me!  if  this  isn't  the  school-marm  I've 
hearn  so  much  about.  How  do  you  do.  dear?"  said 
Mrs.  Wilkins.  shaking,  in  true  Yankee  style,  the 
hand  which  Josie  winningly  placed  in  hers.  "My 
grandchildren  love  you  dearly ;  and  I  don't  wonder, 
neither."  she  added,  looking  admiringly  upon  the 
maiden's  expressive  countenance. 

Josephine  replied  that  she  was  well,  and  was  glad 
to  know  that  she  had  gained  the  affections  of  her 
pupils. 

"  And  how  do  you  like  your  school,  dear?  You  get 
along  well,  I  hope?" 

Josephine  liked  her  school  much,  and  generally 
got  along  very  happily.  Mrs.  Wilkins  expressed  her 
satisfaction,  and  turned  to  Mrs.  Clement,  saying, 
"  When  I  get  all  out  of  sorts,  I  come  over  here,  and 
somehow  or  other,  Miss  Clement,  your  sweet  ways 
set  me  all  right;  and  I  go  home  feelin'  good  to 
everybody ;  and  that 's  why  I  come  to-night." 

::  Why,  Mrs.  J^ilkins,  you  are  so  cheerful  always, 
that  I  thought  T&  took  something  serious  to  irritate 

o  o 

you." 

"  It  is  something  serious,  in  my  opinion,"  said  the 


PLANS  FOR  CLINTON'S  IMPROVEMENT.        57 

old  lady,  with  great  energy.  "You  know  I  always 
had  a  great  deal  of  feelm'  for  that  fatherless  and 
motherless  little  fellow  at  Mr.  Kent's.  I  've  always 
said  he  'd  be  a  first-rate  boy  if  he  was  treated  half- 
decent.  Well,  this  afternoon,  I  saw  Mr.  Kent  drag 
him  into  the  barn,  —  the  barn,  you  know,  is  close  to 
our  house,  —  and  he  was  swearin'  and  scoldin'  dread 
fully.  Then  he  gave  him  such  an  awful  wippin'  ! 
I  could  hear  the  blows  where  I  sat  as  plain  as  day. 
After  a  little  spell  Jane  come  in.  She  's  been  away 
for  a  week,  and  just  got  back.  I  asked  her  what 
great  thing  Clint  had  been  doing.  She  laughed, —  I 
just  about  hate  that  girl, —  and  said  that  '  Clint  had 
been  playin'  truant,  and  her  father  had  given  him  one 
good  whippin',  and  she  guessed  he'd  have  another; 
for  he  had  carried  him  to  Miss  Lee,  and  she  had 
looked  quite  angry,  and  said  she  should  do  her  duty 
by  him.'  I  dare  say  he  deserved  punishment ;  but 
'twould  n't  do  any  good  to  half-kill  the  child.  I 
wanted  to  shake  the  girl  for  laugh  in'  so  spitefully ; 
and  when  she  went  away  I  should  have  boiled  over  if 
I  had  n't  known  that  John's  wife  is  always  against 
the  boy.  So  I  caught  up  my  bonnet,  and  came  away 
as  fast  as  I  could." 

Mrs.  Wilkins  paused  for  breath.  Her  face  was 
burning  with  indignation,  and  her  eyes  glistening. 
Mina  innocently  handed  her  a  fan.  "Thank  you, 
dear,"  she  said,  accepting  it.  "Wish  'twould  fan 
away  all  my  heat." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  that  Mr.  Kent  is  so  hard  with 
the  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Clement;  "he  will  be  entirely 
spoiled  if  there  isn't  a  different  course  adopted  with 
him." 

"That  he  will,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkins,  nodding  her 
head  decidedly.  "I  venture  he'd  be  a  wonderful 
Bight  better  if  he  had  some  one  to  love  him,  and  treat 


58  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

him  like  a  human  creature.  Don't  think  I  mean  to 
fault  you,"  she  continued,  turning  to  Josephine,  with 
a  half-apologetical,  half-scrutinizing  glance.  "Don't 
think  I  mean  to  fault  you,  my  dear  young  lady.  I  've 
beam  how  kind  you  have  been  to  him,  and  my  heart 
blest  you  for  it.  I  can't  blame  you  for  gettin'  a 
little  out  of  patience  at  last ;  for  I  suppose  he  does 
act  dreadful  tryin'  sometimes ;  but  't  an't  the  best 
way,  my  dear,  it  an't  the  best  way  !  " 

Josephine  felt  slightly  confused,  and  hardly  knew 
how  to  reply  to  the  old  lady.  Mrs.  Clement  came  to 
her  relief.  "You  are  mistaken.  Mrs.  "VVilkins;  you 
don't  know  Miss  Lee.  Josie,  let  me  tell  her  all 
about  it."  Josephine  assented.  Mrs.  Clement  re 
peated  what  the  young  girl  had  told  her,  of  her  con 
versation  with  Clinton  in  the  school-room,  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  affected  him.  Mrs.  Wilkins  lis 
tened  with  delight. 

"  Bless  your  dear  heart  !  "  she  cried,  wiping  her 
eyes.  "  And  you  made  him  cry  only  with  such  kind, 
lovin'  words  !  Did  he  promise  to  be  good  and  obedi 
ent  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  that  I  should  yet  be  proud  of  him," 
said  Josephine.  "When  I  commenced  talking  with 
him,  he  looked  stubborn  and  wilful  enough  to  bear 
anything  without  crying  ;  but  when  he  went  away,  his 
whole  appearance  was  changed.  His  face  was  radi 
ant  with  joy  and  hope.  I  have  strong  hopes  that  he 
will  become  as  worthy  of  our  love  as  he  now  is  of  our 
compassion." 

"  Yes,  I  know  he  will,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkins :  ''  ar.  1 
it  will  all  be  through  your  goodness.  Who  'd  think 
a  young  thing  like  you  would  be  so  sensible  and 
patient  too  ?  P'raps  you  'd  like  to  know  why  I  am 
BO  interested  in  the  boy  ?  Well,  I  was  with  his  poor 
mother  when  she  died.  Poor  thincj !  it  makes  me  sad 


PLANS  FOR  CLINTON'S  IMPROVEMENT.        59 

to  think  how  she  died,  without  a  single  friend  to  leave 
her  baby  with !  She  seemed  stupid  all  the  time,  and 
I  couldn't  find  out  anything  about  her  folks ;  so  little 
Clint  had  to  go  to  the  poor-house.  'T  was  kinder 
mysterious  how  they  were  so  far  from  all  their  folks ; 
and  some  people  said  ill-natured  things  about  'em ; 
but  I  'd  never  believe  a  word  of  it."  Josephine  had 
heard  the  story  several  times ;  was  very  glad  to  have 
the  sympathy  of  others  in  her  endeavors  for  the 
child's  improvement,  and  hoped  Mrs.  Wilkins  would 
speak  a  kind  word  for  him  whenever  she  had  occasion. 
Indeed  she  would,  —  the  kind  old  lady,  —  and  never 
cease  to  remember  his  young  teacher's  gentleness  and 
patience. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something  to  encourage  you,  Miss 
Lee,"  said  Frank,  who  had  been  listening  to  the  con 
versation  with  great  interest.  "I  never  heard  of 
Clint's  telling  a  falsehood ;  and  I  have  more  than 
once  known  when  he  easily  might  have  saved  himself 
from  punishment  if  he  had  lied  a  little." 

"  Indeed,  that  is  very  encouraging."  said  Joseph 
ine  ; '"  yet,  I  hardly  understand  why  he  should  have 
such  regard  for  truth  when  he  has  had  no  religious 
instruction." 

"  I  don't  think  it  can  properly  be  called  regard  for 
truth,"  said  Mrs.  Clement,  "as  he  doubtless  has  no 
knowledge  of  its  value  or  importance.  It  must  be  an 
inborn  spirit  of  integrity,  a  native  pride,  which  keeps 
him  above  the  vies  of  deception.  It  argues  well  for 
our  hopes  ;  and  now  it  seems  that  most  of  his  faults 
result  from  his  ungovernable  temper ;  and,  Josie,  if 
we  can  get  him  into  the  Sunday-school,  you  may  be 
able  to  cure  him  of  that." 

"Mother,"  said  Frank,  "  haven't  I  some  clothes 
that  would  fit  him  ?  I  have  pocket-money  enough  to 


60  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

buy  him  a  Bible,  if  you  are  •willing.  I  am  sure  he  'd 
like  going  to  Sunday-school." 

"  I  am  perfectly  willing  that  you  should  buy  a 
Bible  for  Clint.  I  had  thought  about  the  clothes 
before  you  came  in ;  and  to-morrow  I  am  going  to  see 
Mrs.  Kent  about  this  matter,  and  coax  her  to  agree  to 
all  our  plans." 

"I  don't  envy  you  your  job,"  said  Mrs.  Wilkjns, 
rising  to  go;  ':  though  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  the  best 
of  luck."  With  many  caresses  for  little  Mina.  and 
kindly  expressions  for  all,  the  good  old  lady  took  her 
departure.  In  a  few  moments  Josephine  bade  her 
friends  good-night,  and  returned  to  her  pleasant 
boarding-place.  Elmina  then  sprung  into  her  mother's 
arms,  and  hid  her  tearful  face  in  her  bosom. 

"What  is  it?"  said  Mrs.  Clement,  in  surprise, 
parting  the  curls  from  her  brow.  ' '  What  is  the 
matter?" 

"  0,  I  don;t  know  what  makes  me  cry  when  I  am 
go  glad  !  Clint  will  be  a  good  boy,  and  everybody 
will  love  him,  and  he  will  be  so  happy !  " 

The  mother  drew  the  sweet  child  closer  to  her 
bosom,  and  breathed  over  her  a  blessing  and  a  prayer. 

The  next  Sabbath  Clinton  went  to  meeting  and  to 
the  Sunday-school.  His  friends  were  much  pleased 
with  the  earnest,  serious  attention  which  he  paid  to 
the  services.  Indeed,  there  was  much  in  the  dis 
courses  of  the  minister  that  Clinton  could  understand, 
much  that  filled  him  with  joy.  His  heart  beat  high 
in  unison  with  the  stirring  anthem ;  and  he  felt,  as  he 
had  never  dreamed  of  before,  that  God  was  his 
Father,  and  Christ  his  Saviour.  The  minister  said 
so ;  the  Bible  which  he  held  in  his  clasped  hands  told 
him  so.  and  the  sublime  hymn,  that  seemed  to  bear 
his  soul  to  the  very  gate  of  heaven,  told  of  his  Father 


PLANS  FOR  CLINTON'S  IMPROVEMENT.        61 

and  Saviour.  When  the  minister  rose  to  pronounce 
the  benediction,  Clint's  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  of 
sacred  joy,  and  his  young  head  bowed  in  deepest 
reverence.  The  blessing,  in  its  richest,  purest  sense, 
seemed  to  fall  on  that  one  child-heart.  Probably 
there  was  no  one  in  that  worshipping  assembly  who  felt 
the  Divine  presence  as  did  Clinton  Forrest. 

Do  not  call  this  all  romance.  Say  not  that  the 
heart  of  childhood  is  incapable  of  such  holy,  such  sub 
lime  aspirations ;  that  mature  and  cultivated  minds 
only  can  feel  to  such  a  degree  the  Divine  inspiration. 
Many  have  felt  all  this,  and  more,  in  early  childhood, 
ere  they  could  tell  what  it  was  that  filled  the  heart 
Avith  bliss  too  deep  for  utterance ;  ere  they  knew  why 
their  eyes  overflowed,  or  could  define  the  strange 
yearning  that  set  the  infant  spirit  fluttering,  strug 
gling  for  freedom. 

From  that  hour  Clinton  loved  the  service  of  the 
sanctuary,  and  summer's  heat  or  winter's  storms 
could  not  keep  him  from  the  house  of  the  Lord.  His 
soul  expanded,  and  the  good  seed  was  planted  in  a 
fruitful  soil.  There  sprung  up  in  his  heart  a  self- 
respect,  which  was  the  foundation  of  the  elevated  and 
manly  character  which  he  afterwards  acquired.  The 
world  was  more  beautiful  to  him ;  a  sort  of  radiance 
rested  on  the  whole  face  of  nature  that  he  could  not 
account  for.  Ah,  happy  child  !  the  light  was  in  thine 
own  heart,  flowing  in  silver  streams  from  the  fount  of 
Love  ! 


CHAPTER    VII. 

FOEESHADOWINGS. 

FIVE  years  have  passed  since  we  first  introduced 
the  reader  to  Oakville  Since  then  it  has  increased 
considerably  in  size  and  importance.  A  new  street 
has  been  laid  out,  and  a  number  of  fine  residences 
erected.  A  new  church  stands  conspicuously  on  a  little 
eminence,  while  higher  up,  commanding  ar  fine  view 
of  many  miles,  is  a  neat  building,  from  whose  small 
cupola  daily  peals  a  clear-toned  bell,  calling  the  young 
students  to  the  house  of  learning.  You  readily 
recognize  it  as  the  new  academy  building ;  and  a  very 
tasteful  and  convenient  one  it  is.  The  villagers  are 
justly  proud  of  their  fine  school-house  and  flourishing 
school.  Mr.  Hastings,  a  good  and  learned  man,  is 
the  principal,  and  Josephine  Lee  the  preceptress. 
It  was  a  very  pleasant  arrangement  for  Josephine  ; 
and  her  pupils,  who  left  the  common  school  for  the 
academy,  rejoiced  in  it  greatly. 

Clinton  Forrest,  the  once  mischievous,  neglected, 
misused  boy,  is  now  a  favorite  in  the  school. -and 
one  of  its  brightest  ornaments.  Those  who  once 
talked  of  his  disreputable  parentage,  and  called  him 
the  worst  boy  in  town,  now  proudly  point  him  out  to 
strangers  as  a  promising  youth.  He  has  won  the 
favor  of  all  by  his  obliging,  gentlemanly  conduct :  and 
h'S  fine  talents  command  universal  respect. 

His  mind  unfolded  so  rapidly  under  the  judicious 

'  (62) 


FORE3HADU  WINGS.  63 

guidance  of  Josephine,  that  at  eleven  years  he  was 
much  noticed  by  visitors  for  his  remarkable  scholar 
ship.  About  this  time  Mr.  Kent  proposed  to  take 
him  from  school,  and  set  him  to  "work  at  his  trade. 
Dr.  Clement  secretly  arranged  with  Mr.  Kent  to  have 
him  attend  school  a  year  longer.  Clinton's  heart 
swelled  with  gratitude  at  this  unexpected  favor ;  and 
he  bent  his  mind  more  assiduously  than  ever  to  his 
studies.  At  the  close  of  the  year  he  commenced 
working  in  the  shoemaker's  shop.  The  occupation 
was  extremely  distasteful  to  him,  and  he  inwardly 
chafed  at  his  irksome  duties.  But  he  was  too  grate 
ful  to  his  friends,  for  their  many  favors,  to  manifest 
any  dissatisfaction ;  and  he  labored  industriously  all 
the  day,  and  spent  every  evening  with  his  beloved 
books. 

When  the  academy  was  established,  and  he  saw 
all  his  young  companions  enjoying  its  advantages, 
he  wept  in  secret  that  he  was  debarred  from  sharing 
the  privilege.  Jane  Kent,  Avho  was  in  truth  a  fine 
scholar,  had  always  felt  jealous  of  Clinton's  good 
scholarship,  and  did  not  conceal  her  pleasure  when 
he  left  school.  One  day  she  boasted  of  her  superior 
opportunities,  and  twitted  him  of  his  poverty.  She 
thought  to  depress  and  discourage  him ;  but  her  words 
had  the  contrary  effect,  for  they  woke  to  still  quicker 
life  his  tireless  ambition.  He  resolved  that  Jane 
should  not  pass  by  him,  and  late  at  night  and  at 
early  morn  he  toiled  over  history  and  mathematics. 
Frank  Clement,  his  most  intimate  friend,  often  helped 
him  puzzle  out  the  more  difficult  problems,  and  re 
peated  the  explanations  which  he  received  from  his 
master.  And  when  Frank  failed  to  lighten  the  dark 
places,  he  carried  his  algebra  to  Miss  Lee,  who  was 
glad  to  assist  her  dear  "young  brother,"  as  she  still 
called  him. 


64  THE    HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

This  constant  labor,  both  manual  and  mental,  wore 
upon  him,  and  he  grew  thin  and  pale.  Dr.  Clement 
observed  this  change  in  his  young  favorite,  and,  when 
he  discovered  the  cause,  declared  that  he  should  spend 
another  year  at  school.  He  represented  the  case  to 
several  liberal-minded  men.  and  so  enlisted  their  sym 
pathies,  that  the  means  were  soon  placed  in  Clinton's 
hands  for  a  year's  schooling  and  clothing.  It  was 
arranged  that  he  should  remain  at  Mr.  Kent's,  and 
work  enough  to  pay  for  his  board.  The  boy  could 
scarcely  realize  that  this  piece  of  good  fortune  was 
his ;  it  seemed  too  good  to  be  true.  But  when  El- 
mina  Clement  congratulated  him,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  he  felt  like  one  waking  from  a  pleasant  dream, 
and  finding  it  a  reality.  There  was  nothing  to 
hinder  his  progress  now.  and  he  soon  rose  to  a  high 
rank  in  school. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  the  winter  term  (the  last  of 
Clinton's  year),  and  there  had  been  a  most  brilliant 
examination.  The  evening  of  the  same  day  a  pleas 
ant  party  were  gathered  in  Dr.  Clement's  parlor. 
Frank.  Clinton,  and  Dora  May.  sat  near  the  glowing 
grate,  talking  over  the  occurrences  of  the  day ;  and 
Elmina  sat  reclining  on  a  lounge  at  a  little  dis 
tance.  Elmina  looked  wearied,  and  there  was  a  list 
less,  almost  sorrowful,  expression  on  her  countenance. 

Time  had  improved  the  outward  appearance  of  our 
friends,  and  added  grace  and  beauty  to  their  still 
forming  characters.  Frank  was  a  young  man  of  eigh 
teen,  and  fully  fitted  for  college.  He  had  a  pleasing 
person,  and  possessed  a  very  cheerful,  happy  disposi 
tion.  Clint's  jetty  locks  were  thrown  back  from  his 
white  forehead,  and  his  dark  eyes  sparkled  with  more 
than  their  wonted  lustre ;  his  whole  face  beamed  with 
joy,  and  an  almost  triumphant  smile  played  round  his 
mouth.  Who  could  recognize,  in  this  noble-looking 


FOKESHADOWING9.  65 

lad,  the  ugly,  miserable  Clint  Forrest  of  other  days  ? 
Dora  was  "fairy  Dora"  still,  and  her  voice  was  as 
clear,  and  her  laugh  as  joyous,  as  in  early  childhood. 
Elmina's  beautiful  dark  eyes  had  grown  deeper  and 
darker ;  and  there  was  an  earnest,  womanly  expres 
sion  on  her  face,  rarely  seen  in  a  girl  of  twelve  years. 
Now  her  eyes  were  glistening  with  unshed  tears,  and 
a  sigh  seemed  struggling  for  expression. 

Mrs.  Clement's  health  had  been  declining  for  sev 
eral  months,  and  she  now  was  seriously  ill.  Though 
Elmina  had  strong  expectations  of  winning  a  prize, 
she  forgot  everything  but  anxiety  for  her  beloved 
mother,  and  hovered  around  her  pillow  like  a  minis 
tering  angel.  She  had  spent  the  long  day  by  her 
bedside,  and  was  wearied  and  depressed,  while  the 
others  were  excited  and  joyous.  She  forgot  her  list- 
lessness  and  sorrow  when  Frank  told  her  that  his 
essay  had  Avon  the  prize,  and  placed  it  in  her  hands, 
—  a  beautifully  bound  volume  of  poems.  She  had  no 
time  to  admire  it,  before  Clinton  held  up  to  her  a 
glittering  medal,  exclaiming,  "I've  won  the  gold 
medal,  Minji;  I've  won  the  medal !  " 

"  Dear  Frank,  dear  Clint,  I  am  delighted  !  "  said 
Elmina,  examining  the  beautiful  prizes.  "I  am 
proud  enough  to  have  two  such  brothers ;  an't  you, 
Dora?" 

"Indeed  I  am!"  said  Dora.  "How  I  wish  you 
could  have  been  with  us  to-day  !  It  has  been  the 
best  examination  we  ever  had ;  everything  went  off 
just  right.  I  was  perfectly  happy,  only  when  I  was 
afraid  that  Clinton  would  lose  the  medal.  I  was 
almost  afraid  that  Jane  Kent  or  Willie  Hastings 
would  do  better  than  he ;  but  he  beat  'em  all,  and  got 
the  prize  !  " 

"I  was  frightened  myself/'  said  Clint,  "when  I 
blundered  so  strangely  over  that  problem.  I  think 
5 


66  THE  HARVEST   OP  LOVE. 

I  should  have  done  better  though,  if  Jane  hadn't 
frustrated  me  so." 

"I  know  you  would,"  said  Frank.  "That  mali 
cious  Jane  bothered  you  more  than  you  think  for.  I 
saw  that  she  was  jealous  and  angry  because  you- ex 
plained  your  first  test-problem  so  well.  I  was  suspi 
cious  of  her.  so  I  kept  my  eyes  on  her.  She  com 
menced  her  work  too  near  yours  on  the  board,  and 
then  purposely  run  her  figures  in  among  yours;  then 
she  pretended  to  be  so  sorry  that  she  had  troubled 
you,  and  made  your  letters  over  again,  but  altered 
the  numbers  before  them.  I  wondered  you  did  n't 
see  what  she  was  about,  and  stop  her.  Then,  when 
you  were  forming  the  last  equation,  as  quick  as 
thought  she  crossed  a  minus  sign,  making  it  plus : 
and  when  you  looked  bewildered  because  it  was 
Avrong,  she  smiled  so  maliciously.  I  was  so  vexed  I 
could  hardly  keep  my  seat !  " 

Clint's  color  rose  as  he  exclaimed.  "I  am  sure  I 
never  thought  of  her  being  quite  so  mean  as  that ! 
She  is  certainly  the  most  unprincipled  girl  in  school ; 
she  was  n't  willing  to  have  a  fair  trial,  bui  wanted  to 
discomfort  me.  so  I  should  lose  the  medal.  She  would 
have  succeeded,  I  ;m  sure,  if  that  stranger  gentleman 
had  n't  come  to  me,  and  asked  leave  for  me  to  try 
again.  '  as  the  young  lady  by  my  side  had  disturbed 
me  considerably.'  I  was  so  mortified,  that  I  should 
have  done  everything  wrong  after  that,  had  it  not 
been  for  his  kindness." 

"Yes,  that  gentleman  took  a  great  fancy  to  you," 
said  Frank.  l  '•  I  saw  that  he  noticed  you  when  your 
class  was  first  called ;  perhaps  because  you  are  the 
smallest  and  youngest  in  the  class.  And.  when  you 
explained  your  first  test-problem,  he  looked  very  much 
pleased  and  interested.  I  think  he  saw  Jane's  ma- 


TORE3HADOWINGS.  67 

nceuvring ;  and  she  thought  so  too,  for  she  looked  very 
red  when  he  went  towards  her." 

"  He  was  very  kind,  I  think,"  said  Elmina. 
"What  is  his  name?" 

"Evans,  I  believe,"  said  Frank;  "and  you  can't 
guess  who  he  is,  Mina.  You  recollect  our  old  school 
teacher,  Miss  Willis,  don't  you?  Well,  he's  her 
husband,  and  she  is  with  him.  She  looks  just  as  she 
used  to.  I  knew  her  the  minute  I  saw  her." 

"So  did  I,"  said  Dora.  -"She  went  round,  and 
spoke  to  her  old  scholars,  and  shook  hands  with  us 
all,  and  seemed  very  glad  to  meet  us.  She  inquired 
for  you,  Elrnina,  and  said  she  recollected  you  as  one 
of  the  loveliest,  sweetest  children  in  the  school." 

"Yes,  she  shook  hands  with  all  but  me,"  said 
Olinton.  "A  minute  after,  I  saw  her  whispering 
with  her  husband,  and  then  she  came  back  to  me, 
and  seemed  much  pleased  to  see  me.  She  said  I  had 
altered  so  much  that  she  did  n't  know  me.  She  com 
plimented  me  on  my  fine  recitations  ;  but  I  did  n't 
care  about  her  compliments  !  "  Clint's  lip  curled, 
and  a  shadow  darkened  his  brow.  "I  never  should 
have  deserved  anything  but  blows,  if  she  had  always 
been  my  teacher  !  " 

"Clinton/'  said  Elmina,  gently,  "don't  you  think 
she  meant  to  do  right  ?  You  won't  think  unkindly 
of  her,  will  you?" 

"No,  dear  Mina,  I'm  sure  I  ought  not,"  said 
Clint,  his  bright  smile  returning  again;  "for  I  am 
quite  sure  she  treated  me  as  well  as  I  dkl  her.  I 
didn't  deserve  Josie  Lee's  kindness,  and  your  father's 
generosity." 

"0,  yes  you  did  !  At  any  rate,  you  deserve  it 
now,  or  my  father  wouldn't  think  so  much  of  you. 
Do  you  know  what  he  told  me  this  afternoon  ?  He 
said  that,  as  Mr.  Kent  is  .going  to  Europe  to  hunt  up 


68  THE  HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

that  fortune,  and  does  n't  want  you  any  longer,  he 
intends  to  ask  you  to  stay  with  us,  and  go  to  school 
till  you  find  something  to  do  that  you  like  better  than 
shoemaking." 

"That's  just  like  Dr.  Clement!"  cried  Dora; 
"  he  always  tries  to  make  everybody  so  happy." 

"  He  has  been  like  a  father  to  me."  said  Clinton, 
"  He  is  too  kind  ;  I  can  never  repay  him." 

-"Pshaw!"  said  Frank;  "don't  talk  about  that. 
You  '11  be  like  a  son  to  him  while  you  stay  with  us, 
and  a  good  brother  to  Mina  and  me." 

"  But  your  mother,  — will  she  be  pleased  with  the 
arrangement?" 

"  Can  you  doubt  it?"  said  Frank,  a  little  reproach 
fully.  "My  father  is  good,  but  my  mother  is  good 
ness  itself." 

" It  is  a  nice  plan,"  said  DOT.-J,  "and  will  please 
all,  I  know.  If  Mr.  Kent  is  really  heir  to  that  great 
English  estate,  he  will  want  no  shoemaker  boys ;  so 
you  can  learn  to  do  something  that  you  like  better." 

They  were  in  high  spirits,  and  chatted  faster  than 
ever,  —  all  but  Elmina;  for  the  mention  of  her  mother 
had  brought  the  shadows  again  to  her  countenance, 
and  she  leaned  back  on  the  lounge,  and  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hand.  "Dear  Mina,  are  you  sick?" 
said  Dora,  observing  her. 

"  I  'in  very  well,  I  thank  you." 

••  We  forgot,"  said  Frank,  "that  she  has  enjoyed 
none  of  the  pleasure  which  makes  us  so  lively  to 
night  :  and  she  has  lost  the  prize,  too,  which  she 
hoped  to  gain.  It  is  unkind  in  us  to  remind  her  of 
her  disappointment  so  often." 

"No,  no,  Frank,  it  is  not  that.  I  was  thinking 
of  poor  mamma." 

"Of  mother!"  said  Frank,  anxiously.  "Is  she 
worse  ? : ' 


FORESHADOWINGS.  69 

Elmina's   lip   quivered,  and  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears.     "  I  don't  know.  Frank,  but  1  fear  she  is  very  ' 
ill." 

They  looked  from  one  to  another  with  sorrowful 
faces.  A  sudden  and  melancholy  thought  had  come  to 
them ;  and  an  earnest  prayer  went  up  from  each 
heart  that  she  might  he  spared.  Just  then  Josie 
Lee  entered  the  room,  with  the  freedom  of  a  privi 
leged  friend.  She  nodded  "Good-e'en  "  to  the  little 
circle  by  the  fire,  but  embraced  Elmina,  and  inquired 
for  her  mother.  "  She  seemed  comfortable  when  I 
left  her  an  hour  ago,"  said  Elmina  ;  u  but  I  fear  she 
is  very  sick/' 

"Let  us  go  to  her,"  said  Josephine.  UI  have 
come  to  take  care  of  her  to-night." 

"  She  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  for  she  asked  for  her 
friend  Josie  this  morning." 

Together  they  ascended  the  softly  carpeted  stairs, 
and  entered  the  sick  chamber.  The  doctor  was  sit 
ting  by  the  bedside,  holding  the  thin  hand  of  his  wife. 
The  expression  of  his  face,  as  it  turned  towards  Joseph-  < 
ine,-  caused  her  heart  to  beat  quickly  and  painfully ; 
it  was  full  of  woe,  almost  despair.  He  was  glad  to 
see  her ;  and,  when  he  found  that  she  would  stay,  he 
said  he  would  take  the  opportunity  to  visit  a  patient 
who  needed  his  attention.  Mrs.  Clement  smiled,  and 
held  Josie's  hand  to  her  lips.  There  was  a  deep 
crimson  spot  on  each  cheek,  and  her  eyes  were  large 
and  brilliant.  Elmina.  in  her  simplicity,  thought  it 
was  in  token  of  returning  health,  and  kissed  her 
mother's  brow  tenderly,  whispering,  "  You  are  bet 
ter,  mamma ;  your  eyes  are  bright  and  your  cheeks 
rosy."  The  invalid  smiled  again,  and  attempted  to 
speak,  but  was  prevented  by  a  paroxysm  of  coughing, 
which  shook  her  weak  frame  terribly. 

Then    she  lay   back    on   her    pillow,   completely 


70  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

exhausted.  Elmina  saw  that  she  was  deadly  pale,  and 
there  was  a  look  upon  her  face  which  she  had  never 
seen  before.  Something  seemed  to  whisper  to  her 
that  the  hope  with  which  she  had  just  comforted  her 
self  was  delusive;  and  a  strange,  vague  feeling  of. 
terror  took  possession  of  her  heart,  and  she  burst 
into  tears.  Josie  caressed  her,  but  could  say  nothing, 
for  her  own  emotion  choked  her  utterance. 

For  a  time  the  sobbing  of  Elmina  was  the  only 
sound  in  the  apartment;  at  length,  Mrs.  Clement 
spoke  in  faint  accents:  "Mina,  my  darling  one,  I 
must  speak  to  you  while  I  have  strength,  and  thank 
you  for  your  kind  and  loving  attentions.  You  have 
ever  been  an  obedient  child  and  a  great  blessing  to 
your  mother ;  this  knowledge  will  be  a  comfort  to 
you  when  I  am  gone." 

'•0,  mother,  mother!"  sobbed  Elmina.  :t  don't  talk 
of  leaving  us  —  of  dying.  I  will  tend  you  so  gently, 
and  do  everything  for  you.  if  you  will  only  get  well. 
You  must  not,  shall  not  die  ! "  She  laid  her  head 
on  the  pillow  beside  her  mother's,  and  clung  to  her 
convulsively.  For  a  moment  the  mother  "wept  with 
her  child,  and  Josephine's  tears  fell  fast.  But  the 
sick  one  was  calm  immediately,  and  spoke  again,  as 
her  wasted  hand  toyed  with  Mina's  disordered  hair : 
"  My  child,  it  would  be  pleasant  for  me  to  live  longer 
in  this  beautiful  world,  for  the  sake  of  those  I  love ; 
but  heaven  is  so  much  more  beautiful,  that  I  am 
willing  to  go.  When  I  first  knew  that  I  must  die, 
0,  my  child,  the  thought  was  dreadful  for  me !  1 
thought  I  could  not  be  parted  from  my  husband  and 
children.  But  heaven  seemed  to  grow  nearer  and 
nearer  each  day,  and  at  last  a  sweet  peace  came  into  my 
heart,  and  I  now  am  ready  to  go  when  the  Saviour 
calls."  She  paused,  her  eyes  were  raised  upward,  and 
a  beautiful,  holy  light  overspread  her  countenance.  It 


FORESIIADOWINGS.  Tl 

was  -the  brightening  of  the  spirit  in  anticipation  of  a 
glorious  freedom. 

Elmina  raised  her  head,  and  looked  upon  her  with 
wonder  and  awe  ;  she  was  hushed  and  subdued  as  if 
in  heavenly  presence. 

"  Mina,  comfort  your  father;  be  a  true,  loving 
sister  to  Frank.  Remember  all  my  teachings,  and 
be  good.  0,  my  own  darling,  strive  ever  to  be  good ! 
If  you  are  ever  doubtful  as  to  your  duty,  think  of  me 
as  your  guardian-angel,  and  act  as  you  believe  I 
would  have  you." 

These  words,  though  spoken  slowly  and  faintly, 
engraved  themselves  on  Mina's  heart  in  fadeless 
characters.  "I  can  say  no. more  now,  my  Elmina, 
for  I  am  weary.  Kiss  me,  love.'; 

She  received  the  kiss,  and  then  seemed  to  pass 
immediately  into  a  tranquil  slumber.  Elmina  sat 
motionless,  musing  on  her  mother's  words.  She  tried 
to  comfort  herself  by  thinking  that  her  mother  might 
be  mistaken ;  that  God  would  yet  spare  her  precious 
life.  A  half-hour  passed,  and  Mrs.  Clement  still 
slept  as  calmly  as  a  babe  ;  but  Josie  perceived  that  a 
change  was  taking  place,  and  anxiously  wished  for  the 
doctor's  presence.  He  came  soon,  accompanied  by 
Frank.  There  were  tears  on  Frank's  cheek.  He 
went  directly  to  the  bedside,  and  looked  tenderly  upon 
the  sleeper.  Elmina  saw  that  her  father  grew  very 
pale  as  he  glanced  towards  the  bed.  and  then  turned 
quickly  round  ;  she  saw  his  hand  trembled  so  that  ho 
scarce  could  hold  his  watch,  which  he  drew  forth  to 
note  the  time,  and  when  he  looked  at  her  he  groaned 
aloud. 

She  knew  it  now,  —  her  mother  would  die  !  A 
mountain  weight  fell  upon  her  heart,  and  she  felt  a 
strained,  choking  sensation  in  her  throat;  a  horrible 
nightmare  seemed  to  inthrall  her  senses,  and  she 


72  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

feared  she  should  shriek.  "  I  can't  stay  here,!'  she 
thought ;  "  I  can  scarcely  breathe ! "  She  hurried  from 
the  room,  down  the  stairs,  and  out  into  the  open  air. 

The  keen  March  wind  swept  wildly  around  the 
house,  throwing  the  light  snow  upon  her  dress  am} 
hair.  She  heeded  it  not,  but  hurried  on  till  she 
reached  a  little  arbor,  which  in  -summer-time  was  her 
mother's  favorite  seat.  She  sank  upon  the  floor,  and 
wept  in  all  the  abandonment  of  sudden  and  terrible 
sorrow.  It  was  her  first  grief,  and  that  — •  0,  God  !  — • 
how  terrible  for  her  childish  heart !  Will  the  light 
ever  shine  again  upon  her  head,  —  will  joy  ever  tune 
her  heart  again  to  his  tripping  measure  ?  It  seems 
not  so  to  her  now ;  it  seems  as  though  the  weight  will 
never  be  lifted  from  her  breast :  as  though  her  heart 
will  never  cease  its  painful  throbbings.  But,  thank 
God,-  his  angels  will  come  and  lighten  the  burden  ; 
His  peace  will  soothe  her  wounded  spirit.  In  time 
she  will  be  able  to  think  calmly  of  this  night.  But 
how  often,  in  her  bereaved  girlhood  and  early  woman 
hood,  will  she  yearn  for  that  mother's  love  !  How 
often  will  her  pillow  receive  her  scalding  tears,  and 
the  still  night  only  hear  her  spirit's  wail  for  mother, 
mother ! 

Other  sorrows  may  come  to  her ;  other  afflictions 
may  prostrate  her  spirit,  and  chill  the  life-blood  in 
her  heart ;  but  never  can  she  weep  again  as  she  is 
weeping  now.  These  are  the  first  tears  welling  up 
from  that  deep  fountain  in  the  soul  over  which  the 
angel  of  sorrow  keeps  guard,  and  unseals  only  when 
Jehovah  commands. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

BEREAVEMENT. 

"  'T  is  a  time 
For  memory  and  tears." 

WE  draw  a  veil  over  the  closing  scene,  which  is  too 
sacred  for  stranger  eyes  to  gaze  upon.  The  sun  rose 
in  all  his  wonted  splendor,  and  in  the  deep  blue 
floated  light  fleecy  clouds,  rivalling  in  whiteness  the 
newly-fallen  snow  upon  the  earth.  But  she,  who 
ever  greeted  the  morning  in  gratitude  and  praise,  had. 
in  the  still  watches  of  the  night,  sought  that  better 
land  whose  light  is  the  glory  of  God. 

The  beloved  wife  and  mother  slept  in  the  arms  of 
death  !  Mute  was  the  loving  breast  that  had  throbbed 
so  purely  and  tenderly ;  voiceless  the  lips  which  never 
opened  but  in  blessing ;  and  shaded  were  the  beaming 
eyes,  for  the  spirit  once  speaking  through  them  had 
fled  forever. 

Dr.  Clement  had  loved  his  companion  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  manly  heart ;  and  he  revered  as  well 
as  loved  her,  for  her  exalted  character  commanded  his 
deepest  respect  and  confidence.  His  heart  waa 
wrung  with  the  anguish  of  parting,  and  he  felt  that  his 
house  was  desolate  ;  yet.  even  then,  heaven-born  hope 
whispered  words  of  consolation,  and  he  heard  'mid 
the  tempest  of  his  grief.  Then  he  sorrowed  most  for 
his  children ;  and  they,  unselfish  even  in  that  fear- 

(78) 


74  THE   HARVEST    OF  LOVE. 

fully  trying  hour,  endeavored  to  hide  their  tears,  that 
they  might  comfort  him.  He  saw  and  appreciated 
their  generous  efforts  at  self-control,  and  thanked  God 
for  his  children. 

But  he  was  destined  to  receive  another  blow,  which 
nearly  rohbed  him  of  his  fortitude.  The  tidings 
came  of  the  death  of  his  only  and  dearly  loved 
brother.  He  read  the  sad  missive,  placed  it  in  the 
hands  of  Frank,  and,  without  a  word,  retired  to  his 
chamber.  Only  the  pitying  eye  of'  his  heavenly 
Father  witnessed  his  renewed  anguish,  or  the  strug 
gles  of  his  spirit  for  resignation  and  composure.  And 
when,  after  a  lapse  of  several  hours,  he  came  forth, 
pale  and  very  grave,  'tis  true,  but  with  a  serene 
aspect,  those  who  knew  how  he  had  loved  and 
sorrowed,  wondered  whence  that  calmness  came. 

Poor  Elmina  !  her  heart  was  almost  broken,  and, 
when  her  father  was  not  by,  she  wept  and  mourned 
incessantly. 

She  lay  upon  the  bed  in  her  own  chamber,  and 
wished,  in  her  rebellious  sorrow,  that  she  might  never 
rise  again  -*—  that  she  might  die,  and  be  with  her 
precious  mother.  She  had  been  alone  for  a  little 
time,  when  Josephine  Lee  entered  the  room  with 
quiet  footsteps;  she  raised  her  head  and  pillowed  it 
upon  her  breast,  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  burning 
brow. 

"  0,  Josie,  how  can  I  live  without  my  mother?  " 
cried  Elmina,  with  another  burst  of  agonizing  tears. 

"Poor,  dear  child  !  "  murmured  Josephine,  softly 
stroking  her  aching  head. 

"  0,  I  want  my  mother,  my  dear,  dear  mother  !  " 
sobbed  Elmina. 

"  She  is  in  heaven,"  said  Josephine,  tenderly  and 
solemnly.  ' '  with  God  and  the  angels.  She  is  an  angel 
now.  Would  you  call  her  back  to  earth  ?  '' 


BEREAVEMENT.  76 

Her  words  penetrated  Elmina' s  heart,  and  she  said 
more  calmly,  "  No,  I  would  not  call  her  back,  but  I 
wish  I  might  die,  too." 

"Mina,  don't  you  remember  your  angel  mother^ 
said  that  you  must  comfort  your  father  ?    Are  you  not 
glad  to  live  for  his  sake?  " 

"My  dear,  dear  father J"  cried  Elmina,  with 
still  streaming  tears;  "0,  how  I  wish  that  I  could 
comfort  him  I  " 

"You  can  —  you  will,  I  am  sure,"  said  Josephine, 
caressing  the  stricken  child.  "  Calm  yourself,  and 
listen  to  me.  Po  you  know,  my  love,  that  God  de 
signs  afflictions  for  our  good?  It  can  hardly  seem  to 
you  that  it  is  better  for  you  to  lose  your  mother's 
kind  care ;  but  God  knows  best.  You  will  have 
many  trials  now,  that  you  would  never  have  known 
had  she  lived ;  and  it  is  by  trial  that  the  spirit  is 
made  strong,  and  fitted  for  heaven.  I  am  sure. 
Mina,  that  you  will  be  patient  and  resigned;  and 
your  dear  mother  will  look  down  from  heaven  and 
bless  you." 

Elmina  grew  composed  as  she  listened.  "  I  will 
try  to  do  as  she  would  have  me,"  she  said,  with  a 
tremulous  voice.  Josephine  continued  to  talk  to  her 
so  wisely  and  soothingly,  that  some  of  the  noble 
strength  of  her  own  character  seemed  imparted  to  the 
young  girl.  From  that  hour  she  was  at  heart  a 
woman,  though  in  years  a  child.  Bravely  did  her 
spirit  rise  above  her  selfish  sorrow,  and  she  was  in 
deed  a  comfort  to  her  father.  Though  mourning 
still,  she  repined  not ;  and  a  sweet  cheerfulness 
became  habitual  to  her.  Yet,  alone  at  night,  she 
often  struggled  fearfully  with  her  grief;  but  the 
morning  ever  brought  peace. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

"  NEW-COMERS." 

THREE  weeks  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Clement  the 
doctor  received  a  letter  from  the  widow  of  his  broth 
er.  It  was  evidently  written  in  a  state  of  great 
despondency,  and  a  sort  of  whining,  complaining  tone 
ran  through  the  whole  of  the  epistle.  The  doctor 
was  in  too  great  affliction  himself  to  criticize  any 
thing  coming  from  one  similarly  bereaved.  He  knew 
that  his  sister-in-law  must  be  penniless,  as  his  brother 
had  met  with  losses  and  died  poor;  and  wl:en  he  learned 
that  she  was  coming  on  from  the  West  with  her  son, 
he  wrote  her  a  very  brotherly  letter,  bidding  her  wel 
come  to  his  house  as  long  as  she  chose  to  stay.  He 
proposed  that  she  should  keep  his  house  for  him,  and 
promised  to  educate  her  boy  as  his  own  son.  She 
accepted  his  kind  offer  with  many  protestations  of 
gratitude,  and  promised  to  be  with  them  by  the  last 
of  April. 

When  this  arrangement  was  made  known  to  Ann 
she  felt  some  inward  dissatisfaction,  but  was  too  sensi 
ble  to  express  it.  She  had  always  been  a  kind  and 
willing  girl,  and  now  proved  herself  a  capable 
woman.  She  had  been  so  long  in  the  family  that 
they  considered  her  as  a  friend,  and  she  felt  a  lively 
interest  in  all  that  concerned  them.  She  rejoiced  when 
Clinton  Forrest  became  a  member  of  the  family,  and 

(76) 


**  NEW-COMERS/'  77 

took  pleasure  in  performing  any  little  service  for  him  ; 
but  these  "new-comers,"  as  she  called  them,  would 
make  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  She,  unconsciously, 
was  prejudiced  against  a  person  she  had  never  seen, 
and  knew  nothing  of.  But  Elmina' s  generous  heart 
was  filled  with  sympathy,  and  she  made  many 
arrangements  for  their  comfort  and  pleasure.  A  large 
and  pleasant  chamber  was  allotted  to  her  aunt ;  and  a 
neat  little  bedroom,  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  was  fitted 
up  for  her  cousin. 

Elmina  thought  less  of  her  sorrow  when  engaged 
in  her  active  plans  for  the  comfort  of  her  expected 
friends,  and  was  almost  light-hearted  when  the  day 
of  their  arrival  came.  She  had  formed  a  very 
pleasant  idea  of  her  aunt,  and  fancied  that  she  might, 
in  some  instances,  supply  the  place  of  her  dear 
•mother.  She  thought  of  her  as  a  gentle  woman, 
with  earnest,  affectionate  ways,  and  her  heart  was 
ready  to  lavish  upon  her  its  wealth  of  love. 

With  the  evening  stage  came  Mrs.  James  Clement 
and  her  son.  The  doctor's  welcome  was  cordial, 
but  he  could  not  say  much,  for  the  many  painful 
emotions  stirring  in  his  heart.  Elmina  affectionately 
embraced  her  aunt  and  cousin,  and  assisted  Ann  in 
carrying  away  their  outer  garments.  She  felt  almost 
a  ludicrous  sensation  of  disappointment  as  her  fancy- 
picture  of  her  aunt  fell  to  the  ground.  Mrs.  James 
Clement  was  a  tall,  masculine-looking  woman,  with  a 
restless,  wandering  eye,  and  an  ill-favored  mouth. 
She  spoke  in  a  whining  voice,  which  was  meant  to  be 
very  sweet  and  plaintive.  Observing  that  her  broth 
er-in-law  was  struggling  with  emotion,  she  spoke  in  a 
still  more  whining  tone,  and  put  her  handkerchief  tc 
her  eyes. 

"0,  dear,  0,  dear!"  she  murmured,  "it  is  so 
dreadful  to  have  ©ur  friends  taken  from  us  !  I  shall 


78  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

never  see  another  happy  day.  I  know  I  never  shall ;  " 
and  she  rocked  back  and  forth  despairingly.  There 
was  something  in  her  manner  very  discordant  with 
the  doctor's  feelings ;  something  that  painfully  jarred 
his  wounded  spirit.  But  he  saw  that  she  needed 
sympathy  ;  and  he  was  not  the  man  to  withhold  kind 
and  encouraging  words. 

"You  are  Avearied  with  your  long  journey,  sister 
Jane,  and  things  look  darker  and  more  gloomy  to  you 
than  they  really  are.  You  Avill  be  more  cheerful  by 
ar^d  by.  Here  I  have  a  comfortable  home,  and  it  is 
yours  as  long  as  you  please :  and  we  will  do  all  that 
we  can  to  make  you  and  your  son  happy." 

"I  presume  I  shall  appear  more  cheerful,  for  I 
have  great  command  of  my  feelings;  but  I  know 
there  'g  no  more  pleasure  in  this  world  for  me." 

"0,  don't  say  that !  You  have  a  son,  who,  if  he  is 
a  studious,  obedient  boy,  will  be  a  great  source  of 
comfort  to  you.  If  he  is  well  and  happy,  you  will 
certainly  have  cause  to  rejoice.  I  dare  say  James 
will  be  a  very  pleasant  addition  to  our  circle  of  young 
folks;  he  is  just  the  age  of  Clinton  Forrest,  who  is  at 
present  one  of  our  family." 

The  comfort  promised  in  her  son  seemed  to  tran 
quillize  the  afflicted  lady,  and  she  removed  the  kerchief 
from  her  face  to  look  fondly  upon  her  boy.  James 
appeared  awkward  and  ill  at  ease.  Frank  and  Clin 
ton,  observing  this,  invited  him  to  go  to  their  own 
room,  where  he  might  feel  more  at  home  ;  and,  with  a 
sort  of  sullen  ba&hfulness,  he  allowed  them  to  lead 
him  away.  Now  Mrs.  James  Clement  talked  volubly 
of  all  the  mi&haps  and  discomforts  of  her  journey ; 
of  her  own  anxiety  and  weariness,  and  of  poor  Jim 
my's  headache;  of  the  meanness  of  the  landlords, 
and  the  carelessness  of  the  railroad  agents.  She 
gave,  in  fact,  a  minute  description  of  her  travels  from 


"NEW-COMERS."  79 

beginning  to  end.  The  doctor  listened  with  commend 
able  patience  and  good-humor  while  Mina  was  filled 
with  innocent  wonder  and  compassion. 

At  an  early  hour  the  lady  signified  her  desire  to 
retire,  and  Mina  lighted  a  small  lamp  and  prepared 
to  accompany  her.  Mrs.  Clement  looked  at  her,  and 
intimated  that  she  had  expected  the  maid  would  at 
tend  her. 

"Ann  is  very  busy,"  was  the  reply.  "I  shall 
take  pleasure  in  doing  anything  you  wish." 

"Very  well,  child,  you  may  take  my  carpet-bag 
and  shawl,  —  that 's  all  I  shall  want." 

Elmina  showed  her  aunt  into  a  large  and  pleasant 
chamber,  furnished  in  a  generous  and  tasteful  man 
ner.  A  bright  wood-fire  blazed  in  a  handsome  open 
stove,  and  at  an  inviting  distance  stood  a  nice  stuffed 
rocking-chair;  the  snowy  curtains  reached  to  the 
bright  Avool  carpet ;  a  mahogany  table  was  covered 
with  richly-bound  books,  and  a  nice  dressing-table 
stood  in  its  proper  place ;  while  the  bed,  with  its 
inviting  softness,  seemed  to  woo  the  weary  traveller 
to  balmy  slumbers.  For  a  moment  she  looked  grati 
fied,  and  then,  with  an  expression  of  discontent 
shading  her  features,  she  sank  into  the  rocking-chair. 
Elmina  asked  her  if  she  would  have  anything.  Yes, 
she  would  like  some  water,  for  her  head  ached  badly. 

"There  is  water  here  on  the  stand,"  said  Elmina; 
''shall  I  give  you  some  ?  " 

"No,  child,  I  won't  have  any  now;"  and  she 
leaned  her  head  dolefully  on  her  hand.  Elmina 
looked  at  her  anxiously.  Presently  she  said,  "  Won't 
you  take  something  warm  ?  Papa  has  a  nice  cordial, 
which,  I  think,  will  make  you  feel  better." 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  would  take  a  little,"  was  the 
reply,  "if  you  will  bring  it  to  me;  though  I  never 
take  medicine." 


80  THE  HARVEST  or  LOVE. 

Elmina  went  away  with  light  steps,  and  soon 
returned  with  the  cordial.  Her  aunt  tasted  it,  but  did 
not  find  it  agreeable,  and  desired  her  to  place  it  upon 
the  table. 

"  Is  this  the  room  your  mother  used  to  have  for 
hers  ?  » 

"No.  ma'am;  mamma's  room  is  opposite  this." 
said  Elmina. 

"  Your  father  occupies  that  room,  I  dare  say,"  con 
tinued  her  aunt. 

"No;  father  sleeps  in  the  bedroom  leading  from 
the  parlor." 

"Ah!  I  should  like  to  see  your  mother's  room; 
perhaps  I  should  like  it  better  than  this." 

"I  think  this  room  is  a  pretty  one,"  said  Elmina. 
who  was  really  disappointed  that  her  aunt  had  ex 
pressed  no  satisfaction  in  anything  which  she  had 
arranged  for  her  comfort. 

"  0,  yes,  this  room  is  well  enough;  but  I  want  you 
to  show  me  the  other  one." 

The  young  girl  hesitated.  After  her  mother's 
death  everything  had  been  arranged  in  the  apart 
ment  just  as  the  dear  departed  liked  best  to  have  it. 
It  had  been  then  shut  up.  and  no  one  had  entered  it 
since,  save  the  bereaved  husband,  and  he  only  to  weep 
and  pray.  Elmina  hesitated  :  she  could  not  bear  to 
intrude  upon  the  sacred  place;  but  she  feared  to 
offend  her  aunt,  and,  with  trembling  steps,  led  the 
way. 

'•  0,  what  a  beautiful  room! "  cried  Mrs.  Clement, 
the  minute  the  door  was  opened.  "  0,  what  a  pretty 
room  !  I'm  sure  this  carpet  is  much  handsomer 
than  the  one  in  the  other  room.  Give  me  the  light, 
child ;  I  must  look  at  this  little  workstand,  it  is  so 
curious.  What  a  nice  bookcase !  Did  all  these 
books  belong  to  your  mother  ?  " 


"  NEW-COMERS."  81 

"  Yes ;  most  of  them  were  presents  from  father." 

"  And  these  shells  I  suppose  he  got  for  her.  What 
a  nice  room  I  I'm  sure  it  is  much  pleasanter  than 
mine !  " 

"No;  most  people  think  the  other  the  pleasantest 
chamber,  for  it  overlooks  the  river.  Mother  liked 
this  best  because  she  could  see  her  flower-garden  from 
the  window." 

"  I  don't  care  anything  about  the  river,  but  I  like 
a  garden  very  much.  As  I  like  this  room  so  much 
the  best,  I  suppose  no  one  will  care  if  I  occupy  it 
instead  of  the  other." 

Elmina  had  been  standing  on  the  threshold  during 
the  foregoing  colloquy.  She  had  replied  to  every  im 
pertinent  inquiry  in  a  gentle,  almost  timid,  manner ; 
but  now  the  indignant  blood  dyed  her  cheek,  and  she 
stepped  forward  into  the  apartment.  "  Aunt  Jane," 
she  said,  slowly  and  distinctly,  "aunt  Jane,  this 
chamber  was  my  mother's,  and  everything  in  it  is 
sacred.  She  used  to  sit  here  much  of  the  time,  and 
father  would  come  up  here  and  talk  with  her  when  he 
was  not  too  busy.  It  is  my  father's  desire  that  no 
one  should  occupy  this  room  until  I  am  old  enough 
to  have  it  for  my  own." 

Mrs.  James  Clement  looked  at  her  niece  in  surprise, 
and  with  a  vague  idea  that  she  had  committed  a  slight 
impropriety.  "  0,  well.  I  don't  care  about  it,  child  ; 
but  it  must  be  that  your  father  loved  her  very  much, 
or  he  wouldn't  be  so  superstitious." 

"  Yes,  indeed  he  did,"  Elmina  said;  but  her  over 
wrought  feelings  would  bear  no  more  control,  and  she 
burst  into  a  passion  of  tears.  Her  aunt,  who  seemed 
struck  with  a  sudden  awe  or  superstitious  fear, 
stepped  quickly  into  the  hall,  and  the  weeping  girl 
closed  the  door  with  a  gentle,  reverent  touch. 

Elmina  placed  the  lamp  on  her  aunt's  dressing- 


82  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

table,  and  wished  her  ':  Good-night,"  in  a  tremulous 
voice.  There  was  an  appealing,  pleading  expression 
on  her  countenance  as  she  turned  away.  A  true 
woman  would  have  understood  that  mute  appeal,  and 
would  have  taken  the  motherless  girl  in  her  arms ; 
she  would  have  caressed  her  tenderly,  and  kissed 
away  her  tears ;  she  would  have  whispered  loving 
words,  and  breathed  an  earnest  prayer  above  her 
beautiful  head.  But  Mrs.  Clement  understood  not 
the  meaning  of  that  tearful  glance,  and  replied 
"  Good-night "  in  a  cold  and  indifferent  manner.  El- 
mina  stood  in  the  hall  and  struggled  with  her  tears. 
She  could  not  define  her  emotions  ;  but  wounded  feel 
ing,  and  a  sense  of  disappointment,  swelled  in  her 
heaving  breast.  She  had  looked  forward  to  the  com 
ing  of  her  aunt  with  an  unconscious  hope  that  she 
would  fill,  in  some  degree,  the  aching  void  in  her 
heart.  She  had  nursed  sweet  fancies  concerning  her, 
till  the  germs  of  affection  were  engendered,  ready  to 
expand  luxuriantly  at  the  first  demonstration  of  love. 
But  chilled  and  wounded  was  the  upspringing  affec 
tion,  and  it  fell  back  upon  a  heart  yet  quivering  with 
the  woe  the  death-angel  had  planted  there.  0,  how 
wild  was  the  yearning  for  her  mother  then  !  It 
required  all  her  self-command  to  suppress  a  cry  of 
anguish. 

0,  it  would  have  been  a  privilege  could  she  have 
wept  until  that  burning  pain  was  dissolved  in  tears  ! 
But  tears  are  telltales,  and  she  thought  of  her  fath 
er  sitting  sadly  alone ;  so  they  were  sent  back  to 
their  fountain.  A  moment  longer  she  struggled  with 
herself,  and  then,  with  composed  features,  she  entered 
the  parlor.  The  doctor  was  sitting  at  the  table,  lean 
ing  his  head  upon  his  hand ;  a  look  of  settled  melan 
choly  overspread  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  bent  on 
the  carpet  with  a  vacant,  dreamy  gaze.  He  appeared 


"NEW-COMERS."  83 

unconscious  of  Elmina's  presence  until  she  laid  her 
hand  upon  his  arm,  and  whispered,  tenderly,  "  Dear 
father  !  " 

Then  he  drew  her  towards  him,  and  kissed  her, 
but  absently,  as  though  his  mind  was  far  away. 

"  Father,  "  —  and  her  voice  was  sweet  and  cheer 
ful  as  though  no  painful  feelings  had  ever  thrilled  the 
chords  of  her  being.  —  k£  shan't  I  sing  and  play  to 
to  you  ?  You  never  ask  me  to  now-a-days." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  :  I  should  like  much  to  have 
you." 

He  did  not  alter  his  position  when  Elmina  seated 
herself  at  the  piano.  She  did  not  stop  to  consider 
that  quick,  loud  music  would  jar  painfully  upon  the 
sensitive  mind  of  her  listener,  or  that  tender,  plain 
tive  strains  would  augment  his  melancholy  ;  but  with 
an  instinctive  sense  of  propriety,  which  was  with  El 
mina  a  peculiar  gift,  she  chose  a  graceful,  airy  ballad. 
Her  voice  was  clear  and  musical,  and  she  sung  with 
her  whole  heart.  When  she  finished  the  piece,  he 
changed  his  seat  to  one  near  the  piano,  and  begged 
for  another  song  with  a  tone  of  interest.  She  sung 
on,  till  her  smothered  anguish  seemed  waftpd  away 
on  the  wings  of  her  own  song. 

After  a  time  she  ceased  playing,  and  commenced  a 
cheerful  conversation.  No  one  who  had  looked  upon 
ber  unruffled  brow  and  subdued  smile,  would  have 
dreamed  that  an  hour  before  that  sweet  face  Avas  con 
vulsed  with  agony ;  or  of  the  struggle  which  had 
taken  place  in  her  young  heart. 

Her  generous  efforts  at  self-command  were  not  unre 
warded;  for  her  cheerful  voice  and  smile  quite  charmed 
away  the  shadows  from  her  father's  brow,  and  he 
called  her  his  "  sweet  comforter." 

Suddenly  he  said,  "  Mina,  do  you  know  that  you 
are  very  like  your  mother  ?  '' 


84  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

She  left  the  music-stool  to  sit  upon  his  knee,  and 
laid  her  face  on  his  shoulder  to  hide  the  tears  —  half 
of  pleasure,  half  of  pain  —  which  his  words  had 
started.  "  I  am  glad  you  think  me  like  her,  father  ; 
I  hope  I  shall  grow  more  like  her  every  day." 

"  I  hope  so,  darling  !" 

He  held  her  tightly  to  his  breast.  In  the  silence 
that  followed,  each  knew  what  was  in  the  other's 
mind,  —  mournful,  tender  thoughts  of  the  loved  one 
who  had  sought  a  purer  home.  There  was  a  holy 
hush  in  their  hearts,  for  each  felt  that  the  spirit  of 
the  dear  one  was  with  them,  breathing  comfort  on 
their  wounded  spirits.  In  that  embrace  the  hearts  of 
the  father  and  child  were  woven  closer  together  in 
holier,  tenderer  ties.  Such  moments  are  blessed  to 
to  the  mourning  heart,  where  Christian  faith  and  hope 
have  made  their  altar  ;  they  bring  a  sweet  peace,  — 
such  peace  as  the  Saviour  left  his  disciples. —  "the 
peace  that  passeth  understanding." 

The  clock  was  on  the  stroke  of  ten.  and  Elmina 
made  a  movement  to  retire,  when  her  father  gently 
detained  her.  "  Wait  a  moment,  Mina.  I  have  a  favor 
to  ask;  won't  you  sing  'When  shall  we  all  meet 
again,'  for  me?  " 

The  hymn  had  been  a  great  favorite  of  her  mother's, 
and  she  had  heard  her  sing  it  many  times  in  her  sweet, 
mellow  tones ;  it  was  blended  with  her  mother's  name. 
She  feared  she  could  not  sing  it,  for  there  was  a  sud 
den  swelling  in  her  throat,  and  her  lips  quivered. 
Her  father  observed  her  agitation;  "  I  was  wrong." 
he  said,  "  to  ask  you;  you  need  not  try." 

"  Yes,  I  will  try."  With  her  face  turned  a  little 
away  from  his,  she  sang.  Her  voice  was  wavering 
and  weak  at  first,  but  she  gained  strength  and  com 
posure  as  she  proceeded,  and  was  enabled  to  sing  the 
last  verse  with  surpassing  sweetness.  There  were 


"NEW-COMERS."  85 

toars  in  the  doctor's  eyes  as  she  finished.  "Bless 
you,  darling !  "  he  whispered,  pressing  his  lips  to  her 
brow,  "  bless  you  !  it  seems  as  though  her  spirit  were 
singing  through  your  voice." 

' '  It  seemed  so  to  me, : '  said  Mina,  softly ;  "  for  I 
had  no  strength  when  I  commenced." 

Again  her  father  kissed  that  pure  brow  ;  again  he 
breathed  a  blessing  upon  her  beautiful  head,  and  then 
Elmina  sought  her  pillow. 

0,  lovely  were  the  dreams  which  mingled  with 
her  rest  that  night !  Sweet  dreams  of  that  land  where 
the  pastures  are  ever  green,  and  the  living  waters  flow 
in  silver  streams.  A  band  of  angels  kept  holy  vigils 
above  her  pillow,  and  she  slept  as  only  the  pure  in 
heart  can  sleep. 


CHAPTER    X. 

CHANGES. 

THE  shadow,  which  the  coming  of  the  death-angel 
had  left  upon  the  household,  seemed  to  take  a  sadder 
and  more  melancholy  tinge  as  the  weeks  passed  by. 
Not  that  the  affections  of  one  for  the  other,  which 
their  mutual  affliction  had  caused  to  flow  in  tenderer 
channels,  were  chilled  or  turned  aside ;  but  a  sort  of 
restraint,  growing  daily  more  manifest,  destroyed  the 
charm  of  the  family  circle.  The  new  members  did 
not  seem  to  take  their  places  easily  or  naturally, 
though  Elmina  tried  with  all  her  tact  and  skill  to 
adjust  everything  pleasantly.  "  The  very  atmosphere 
was  changed.'  as  Ann  expi'essed  it.  There  was  some 
thing  wrong  about  the  house,  one  could  easily  per 
ceive,  for  the  girl  went  about  her  duties  with  a  clouded 
brow  and  inelastic  step.  Ann  never  allowed  an  op 
portunity  to  pass  of  pouring  all  her  vexations  and 
troubles  into  Elmina' s  ear.  and  no  soothing  words,  on 
the  part  of  the  latter,  could  soften  her  one  whit  to 
wards  the  objects  of  her  displeasure.  "  That  woman." 
as  she  designated  Mrs.  James  Clement,  <:  is  the 
most  unreasonable  creature  in  existence,  and  so  igno 
rant,  too  ;  always  doing  things  differently  from  what 
the  dear  mistress  did.  And  as  for  James,  he  was  ten 
times  the  trouble  that  Master  Frank  and  Clinton 
were." 

Elmina  heard  this  harangue  daily,  in  addition  to 

(86) 


CHANGES.  87 

her  personal  trials,  and  it  was  little  wonder  that  the 
shadows  settled  upon  her  expressive  face,  and  chased 
the  sunshine  from  her  heart.  But  she  ever  had  a 
smile  for  her  father,  and  it  was  her  greatest  anxiety 
that  her  aunt  should  be  gracious  and  in  good  humor 
against  his  return.  It  was  this  anxiety  for  her  fa 
ther's  happiness  which  often  checked  a  petulant  reply 
or  an  angry  burst  of  tears ;  for  her  temper  was  not 
yet  proof  against  the  unequalled  insolence  of  her 
aunt's  conduct.  Not  that  Mrs.  Clement  was  inten 
tionally  cruel  in  her  treatment  of  Mina,  but  she  was 
incapable  of  appreciating  her  delicate  and  highly- 
toned  mind ;  and,  by  her  coarseness  and  inconsiderate 
selfishness,  made  the  life  of  the  young  girl  almost 
insupportable. 

She  never  called  Elmina  by  her  name,  always  ad 
dressing  her  as  <:  child;"  and  the  young  girl  would 
study  her  face  and  form  in  the  glass,  to  discover  if 
she  were  really  so  very  childish  in  appearance.  She 
pondered  on  the  strangeness  of  this  address  until  she 
shrunk  from  the  word  "child,"  in  her  aunt's  mouth, 
as  from  an  epithet  of  reproach. 

Often  did  Frank  and  Clinton,  with  Mina  and  Dora, 
ramble  over  the  green  hills  and  through  the  quiet 
meadows.  These  were  delightful  seasons  to  our  little 
band  of  friendly  hearts,  and  served  to  knit  in  closer 
links  the  circle  which  friendship  had  long  ago  woven 
around  them.  At  first  James  accompanied  them,  but 
he  soon  wearied  of  their  quiet  ways,  and  left  them 
for  more  congenial  spirits  among  the  rude  boys  in  the 
village.  They  were  not  much  sorry  when  he  did  not 
go  with  them,  for  he  always  seemed  one  too  many ; 
but  if  by  chance  Josie  Lee  joined  them  in  their  walks, 
their  joy  was  complete. 

0,  bright  days  of  youth,  when  sorrow  makes  but 
lighter  traces  on  the  heart !  0,  golden  summer  days, 


88  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

whose  perfect  beauty  is  like  a  revelation  of  heaven  to 
the  children  of  men! 

Youth  and  summer  are  kindred  spirits.  Mature 
man,  with  the  cares  and  duties  of  life,  can  never  feel 
the  inspiration  of  nature,  as  the  untrammelled  youth. 
The  wild,  strange  beauty  of  the  woods,  even  the  out- 
gushing  of  the  birds,  makes  no  impress  upon  the  spirit 
of  him  who  counts  loss  and  gain,  or  is  striving  for  the 
gold  that  perisheth.  Who  has  not,  in  his  "  heart  of 
hearts,"  though  long  years  may  have  cast  their  shad 
ows  over  him,  a  memory,  even  as  a  sweet  dream, 
of  a  time  when  he  felt  the  embrace  of  summer,  as 
that  of  an  angel  from  the  upper  spheres  ;  a  time  when 
the  voices  of  nature  wove  with  the  tbrobbings  of  his 
heart  a  melody,  now  exultant,  now  low  and  sweet  as 
the  echo  of  a  heavenly  song?  'T  is  then  that  the  soul, 
trembling  with  its  depth  of  bliss,  hopes  and  dreams 
of  immortality. 

But  we  are  digressing.  Mrs.  Clement  early  con 
ceived  a  strong  dislike  of  Clinton. .  Perhaps  the  sur 
prise  and'  reproach  which  she  read  in  his  speaking 
eye  once  when  she  was  angrily  lecturing  Elmina, 
made  her  feel  uncomfortable  in  his  presence,  and  gave 
birth  to  her  dislike ;  but  jealousy  was  the  principal 
cause  of  her  antipathy.  Clinton  was  at  that  time 
receiving  the  same  favors  which  were  lavished  upon 
her  son  ;  and  she  realized  that  he  occupied  a  place  in 
the  hearts  of  the  doctor  and  his  children  which  James 
might  aspire  to  in  vain.  He  was  a  fine  scholar ;  he 
was  respected  and  beloved ;  and  all  these  circum 
stances,  in  contrast  with  her  own  less-favored  son,  but 
nourished  her  hatred  and  jealousy.  Clinton  was  not 
ignorant  of  her  feelings  towards  him,  and  avoided  her 
as  much  as  possible.  James,  who  was  in  every  respect 
his  mother's  own  son,  was  also  jealous  of  Clinton. 
Clint  was  continually  rising  in  school,  and  received  the 


CHANGES.  89 

commendations  of  his  teachers,  while  James  remained 
in  the  same  low  place  he  had  at  first  taken  in  his 
classes,  and  was  often  reprimanded  for  his  idleness 
and  inattention.  Clint  was  a  favorite  with  all  the 
boys,  who  thought  no  game  was  complete  unless  he 
joined  them ;  and  James  was  daily  left  in  the  back 
ground,  gnawing  his  nails  and  sulkily  looking  at  his 
unlearned  lessons.  Instead  of  emulating  Clinton's 
virtues,  James  hated  him  for  being  a  better  boy,  a 
better  scholar,  and  a  greater  favorite,  than  himself. 
He  nursed  his  jealousy  till  it  embittered  his  heart, 
and  made  him  miserable.  The  master  sometimes  in 
judiciously  compared  the  conduct  of  one  with  the 
other,  and  thus  increased  his  hatred.  He  often  taunted 
Clinton  with  his  dependence  upon  his  uncle,  and  called 
him  pauper  and  beggar-boy.  Clint  bore  all  his  coarse 
jests  with  tho  utmost  good-humor,  for  a  sense  of  su 
periority  and  noble  pride  raised  him  above  anger 
towards  one  for  whom  he  had  neither  love  nor  respect. 

One  bright  afternoon  Frank  sat  upon  the  piazza, 
reading,  when  James  c.ime  and  threw  himself  on  the 
platform  by  his  side.  Frank  perceived  by  his  move 
ments  that  lie  was  in  bad-humor ;  but  this  so  frequently 
occurred  that  it  excited  no  alarm,  and  he  read  on,  ap 
parently  unconscious  of  his  presence.  James  moved 
uneasily  about,  evidently  wishing  to  attract  his  cousin's 
attention ;  but,  failing  in  this,  he  at  length  exclaimed, 
as  though  he  could  no  longer  contain  himself,  "  I 
hate  Clint  Forrest !  actually  hate  him !  and  I  don't 
believe  he  ;s  so  mighty  good  either,  as  everybody 
seems  to  think  he  is." 

"  What  now  ?  "  cried  Frank,  laying  down  his  book. 
''  What  terrible  thing  has  Clint  been  doing?  " 

"Doing?  why,  he's  always  doing  something  to 
make  me  mad.  Just  now  he  refused  to  let  me  copy 
those  ugly  equations  out  of  his  note-book ;  he  said 


90  THE   HARVEST   OP   LOVE. 

he  'd  explain  'em  to  me ;  but  I  did  n't  want  any  of 
his  explanations  if  he  was  so  cross  he  wouldn't  lend 
me  his  book;  it  would  have  saved  me  three  hours' 
work  if  he  had.  Now,  I  shall  miss  to-morrow  again, 
and  the  master  "11  scold." 

"  I  should  think  he'd  be  ashamed,"  said  Frank, 
gravely;  "of  course,  he  did  it  only  to  get  you  down 
in  the  class,  and  because  he  was  afraid  of  cheating 
Mr.  Hastings  by  showing  you  your  lessons.  I  don't 
wonder  you  hate  him  !  " 

"And  then,"  said  James,  not  perceiving  the  irony 
in  Frank's  voice,  •'  it  makes  me  all  out  of  patience  to 
hear  him  praised  all  the  time,  while  I  am  scolded  tih 
I  am  sick  of  my  life." 

"I  think  it  is  too  bad,"  rejoined  Frank.  "Clint 
ought  to  miss  his  lessons  now  and  then,  and  get  him 
self  into  a  scrape  every  little  while,  just  to  be  even 
with  you." 

James  looked  up  into  his  cousin's  face,  and  saw  the 
roguery  lurking  round  his  mouth,  and  twinkling  in 
his  eyes.  An  angry  flush  mounted  his  forehead,  and 
he  leaned  back  against  one  of  the  vine-wreathed 
pillars  in  silence.  After  a  momentary  pause.  Frank 
spoke  again.  "  Now.  in  sober  earnest,  cousin  James, 
I  think  you  are  a  foolish  boy  to  be  so  jealous  of 
Clint.  I  advise  you  to  follow  his  example,  and  you 
will  find  yourself  a  better  favorite  very  soon." 

"I  shall  not  follow  his  example,  Mr.  Frank,  for 
your  advice !  I  don't  see  anything  so  mighty  good 
about  him,  for  all  everybody  praises  him  up  to  the 
skies  ;  he  tries  to  make  folks  think  he  's  wonderfully 
good-tempered,  but  it  is  all  hypocrisy.  Yesterday  he 
was  awful  mad  at  what  one  of  the  boys  said ;  his  eyes 
flashed  like  sparks  of  fire,  and  his  face  was  hot  enough 
to  light  a  candle;  he  went  towards  him  a  step  or 
two,  and  then  turned  round  and  went  away  as  fast  as 


CHANGES.  91 

he  could.  I  suppose  he  thought  we  should  give  him 
the  credit  of  being  good-natured;  but  I  understood 
him  too  well  for  that." 

"  Clint 's  got  a  hot  temper,  I  know ;  but  he  is  trying 
to  govern  it,  and  it  is  much  to  his  credit.  He  is  a 
noble  boy,  and  scorns  a  mean  action,  and  I  tell  you 
again  that  you  had  better  try  and  be  more  like  him, 
instead  of  telling  how  much  you  hate  him." 

"I  tell  you."  cried  Clement,  "  I  shall  never  take 
a  beggar-boy  for  my  pattern.  Because  you  happen 
to  be  a  little  older  than  I,  you  think  you  are  privi 
leged  to  lecture  me  as  much  as  you  please  !  " 

"0.  don't  be  angry.  Jimmy  !  I  was  only  giving 
you  a  little  well-meant  advice.  And  1  tell  you  truly 
that,  if  you  scold  so  much  about  Clint,  you  '11  lose 
what  few  friends  you  have  ;  for  there  never  was  a 
more  universal  favorite  than  Clinton  Forrest." 

"  Clinton  Forrest,"  repeated  James,  sneeringly. 
"  I  don't  see  what  right  a  pauper,  a  beggar-boy,  has 
to  such  a  fine  name.  I  suppose  some  foolish  old 
woman  gave  it  to  him  because  he  had  none  of  his 
own." 

"You  mistake,  sir!"  cried  Frank,  with  rising 
temper;  "you  mistake,  —  it  was  his  father's  name, 
and  his  by  the  best  of  right.  And  now  I  Avant  you 
to  understand,  James  Clement,  that  he  is  my  dearest 
friend,  and  I  will  not  hear  him  called  beggar-boy  by 
any  one ;  the  words  are  very  displeasing  to  me,  and  I 
desire  you  never  to  use  them  again  in  my  presence." 

"Indeed!"  sneered  James;  "and  so  I  must 
choose  my  words  when  addressing  your  honor !  I 
certainly  shall  not  choose  my  friends  as  you  do,  who 
prefer  a  beggar-boy  to  your  own  cousin." 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you  I  wouldn't  hear  Clint  Forrest 
spoken  of  in  that  manner  again?"  cried  Frank,  now 
really  angry.  "  What  constitutes  him  a  beggar-boy? 


02  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

Is  it  because  he  sits  at  my  father's  table,  and  because 
my  father's  money  pays  for  his  schooling?  If  that 
makes  him  a  beggar-boy,  I  'd  like  to  know  what  you 
call  yourself?  Where's  the  difference  between  you 
two  ?  I  '11  tell  you  the  difference ;  Clint  is  grateful, 
and  does  all  in  his  power  to  repay  my  father's  kind 
ness,  and  you  are  jealous  because  another  enjoys  the 
same  favors  that  you  do  yourself," 

James  started  up  in  a  towering  passion,  and  con 
fronted  his  cousin :  but  Frank's  flashing  eye  and  erect 
figure  intimidated  the  craven-spirited  boy,  and  he 
turned  away  whimpering  and  muttering,  "You  call 
me  a  beggar,  do  you  ?  Very  kind  to  your  poor  orphan 
cousin;"  and  he  passed  round  the  corner  of  the  house 
with  the  air  of  one  grieved  and  offended  beyond  all 
endurance.  Frank  looked  after  him  with  mingled 
feelings  of  scorn  and  self-reproach.  As  his  temper 
cooled,  he  felt  lowered  in  his  own  esteem  for  yield 
ing  to  passion  in  a  discussion  with  one  so  childish  and 
unreasonable.  Presently  he  felt  a  light  touch  on  his 
arm,  and  a  sweet,  reproachful  voice  whispered,  t;  0, 
how  could  you.  Frank  ! " 

"  Why,  Mina,  how  you  started  me  !  "  said  he,  put 
ting  his  arm  about  his  sister. 

"  Did  I,  Frank  ?  "  said  Elmina.  "  I  'm  sure  I  did 
not  mean  to :  but  how  could  you  speak  such  naughty 
words?" 

"Do  what?  say  what?  you  little  mystery." 

"  Now,  don't  be  so  ignorant.  Frank,  for  I  was  sit 
ting  by  the  window,  and  heard  it  all.  James  thinks 
you  have  called  him  a  beggar,  and  has  gone  away 
very  angry." 

"  I  said  nothing  but  what  he  deserved  for  hig 
impudence." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Elmina,  "and  I  can't  blame 
you  for  getting  angry  at  his  disagreeable  sayings; 


CHANGES.  93 

but  don't  you  see  that  it  will  make  trouble  ?  He  will 
tell  bis  mother,  and  she  '11  feel  insulted,  and,  may  be, 
will  go  to  father  with  a  complaint.  At  any  rate  she 
will  feel  as  though  we  were  so  selfish  as  to  wish  her 
self  and  James  away ;  and  perhaps  she  '11  be  so  angry 
as  to  really  leave  us." 

"Why,  Elmina,"  said  Frank,  laughing,  ':who  ever 
heard  you,  our  hopeful  sunbeam,  borrowing  trouble 
before?  I  own  I  ought  not  to  have  said  what  I  did 
to  James ;  but  I  don't  believe  it  will  hurt  him,  and 
though  aunt  Jane  may  take  a  miff',  it  won't  last  long, 
I  dare  say." 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  borrow  trouble,"  said  Elmina, 
soberly ;  "  for  there 's  enough  of  it  without  borrowing. 
But,  if  she  should  tell  papa,  you  'd  excuse  it  to  her, 
30  that  he  might  not  be  angry  with  you,  wouldn't 
you,  Frank?  " 

"  Ah  !  I  see  bow  it  is.  Mina.  you  are  afraid  father 
will  be  displeased  with  me ;  that  is  just  like  you. 
But  don't  natter  yourself  that  I  shall  ever  make  any 
apologies  to  aunt  Jane  for  anything  I  've  said.  I  'm 
too  proud  for  that." 

"0.  brother!"  said  Elmina,  in  a  sorrowful  tone, 
"it  might  save  a  great  deal  of  trouble  if  you  should 
only  say  you  Avere  sorry,  or  something  like  it." 

"Never,  Mina,  if  I  were  ever  so.  sorry,  would  I 
acknowledge  it  to  her.  I  'd  ask  James'  pardon 
first !  " 

"You  were  not  always  so  proud,  brother.  I  have 
often  seen. you  with  your  arms  around  our  mother's 
neck,  telling  of  some  wrong  thing  you  had  done ;  and, 
only  a  short  time  ago  I  heard  you  begging  Josie 
Lee's  forgiveness  for  a  hasty  word  you  had  spoken, 
as  though  you  thought  her  opinion  was  worth  a  great 
deal." 

"And  so  it  is  to  me,  and  to  any  one  who  knows 


94  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

and  loves  her  as  I  do.  I  should  be  a  mean,  sneaking 
fellow  to  wound  her  feelings,  or  those  of  any  true 
woman,  and  not  make  all  the  reparation  in  my  power. 
I  am  surprised  you  don't  understand  me  Elmina ;  that 
you  don't  see  the  difference,  the  reason  why  I  could 
never  make  apologies  to  aunt  Jane.  You  feel  the 
reason,  though  I  can't  tell  you." 

"Yes,"  said  she,  with  a  sigh,  "I  think  I  under 
stand  you." 

Elmina  felt  a  sensation  of  relief  when  the  tea  hour 
arrived,  and  her  father  was  still  absent  visiting  his 
patients.  It  was  not  their  custom  to  wait  long  for 
him,  and  the  family  soon  gathered  round  the  supper- 
table,  over  Avhich  aunt  Jane  presided  with  a  most 
frigid  and  haughty  manner.  She  was  apparently 
speechless,  never  addressing  a  word  to  the  group  of 
young  folks  around  the  board.  James  looked  at 
Frank,  from  under  his  scowling  eyebrows,  with  an 
angry,  menacing  glance,  and  curled  his  lip  insult 
ingly  at  Clinton. 

Clinton,  seeing  something  was  wrong,  tried  to  dis 
perse  the  cloud  enveloping  them  by  starting  a  con 
versation  ;  but  Frank  answered  only  in  monosyllables, 
and  Elmina  could  not  answer  at  all,  so  sensitive  was 
she  to  any  coldness  or  discord  in  their  family  circle. 
It  was  an  uncomfortable  meal,  eaten  in  silence  and 
haste,  for  each  one  was  desirous  of  leaving  the  chilling 
atmosphere  which  chained  their  tongues  and  saddened 
their  spirits. 

In  an  hour  the  doctor  returned,  and  Elmina 
hastened  to  the  dining-room  to  pour  his  tea  and  chat 
with  him  as  usual ;  but  her  aunt  intercepted  her  in 
the  passage,  saying  that  she  would  attend  upon  the 
doctor.  With  flushed  cheeks  the  young  girl  returned 
to  the  parlor,  where  her  brother  had  resumed  his  book, 


CHANGES.  95 

and  was  reading  by  the  fast-fading  light.  He  \vas 
unconcerned  and  indifferent ;  she,  trembling  and  appre 
hensive. 

That  twilight  hour  seemed  interminable  to  her; 
she  dreaded,  yet  desired,  to  have  the  moments  pass. 
She  wondered  of  what  Frank  was  thinking  when  he 
laid  his  book  aside  and  gazed,  dreamily,  upon  the 
sweet  landscape,  over  which  the  evening  shadows  fell 
with  a  softening  grace.  She  felt  that  his  revery  was 
a  pleasant  one;  so  she  did  not  disturb  him,  but  softly 
drew  her  ottoman  to  his  side,  and  sought  to  dissipate 
her  anxieties  by  studying  his  placid  face. 

She  felt  the  blood  flush  to  her  brow  when  her 
father  came  into  the  room,  followed  by  her  aunt,  and 
she  bent  her  head  so  that  she  did  not  see  the  look  of 
displeasure  upon  his  face. 

Dr.  Clement  was  of  a  generous,  forbearing  temper, 
and  a  frown  upon  his  brow,  or  reproof  from  his  lips, 
was  of  rare  occurrence ;  but  he  was  thoroughly  angry 
now,  for  Mrs.  Clement  had  talked  to  him  until  he 
was  convinced  that  Frank  had  treated  both  herself 
and  son  with  actual  insult. 

"  Frank,  what  do  I  hear?  '  he  said,  with  an  effort 
at  self-command;  "what  do  I  hear?  Your  aunt 
Jane  tells  me  that  you  have  taunted  James  of  his 
orphanage  and  poverty,  twitted  him  of  his  dependence 
upon  me ;  even  called  him  '  beggar '  !  I  am  filled 
with  surprise,  for  this  is  so  unlike  what  I  expected 
from  you,  so  unlike  your  generous  nature.  Perhaps 
even  now  you  can  make  some  explanation  which  will 
palliate  your  fault.  If  so,  speak.  I  pray  you." 

Frank  raised  his  head  with  a  deprecating  glance, 
and  commenced  to  speak,  with  the  intention  of  reliev 
ing  himself  from  the  disgraceful  imputation,  when 
one  look  from  his  aunt  changed  his  resolution,  and  he 
dropped  his  head  in  silence. 


96  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

"Have  you  nothing  to  say,  no  explanation  to 
offer?  "  repeated  the  doctor  sternly. 

"He  does  not  deny  it?"  cried  Mrs.  Clement 
pathetically;  "he  cannot  deny  it!  0,  I  little 
thought,  brother,  that  your  children  would  be  jealous 
of  your  kindness  to  me ;  but  it  is  my  fate,  —  poverty, 
dependence,  and  insult !  I  have  borne  all  my  troubles 
with  fortitude;  but  this — 0,  this  is  too  much  even  for 
me  to  bear !  "  and  she  threw  herself  tragically  upon 
the  sofa,  and  buried  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 

Frank's  eyes  lighted  with  a  scornful  flash,  and  his 
lip  curled  disdainfully,  as  he  replied:  "No,  madam, 
I  do  not  deny  it !  I  deny  nothing !  " 

"  There,  do  you  hear  him  !  "  cried  the  lady,  rising 
energetically;  "he  denies  nothing:  then  this  is  no 
longer  a  home  for  me  ;  —  I  will  not  eat  the  bread  of 
dependence  given  grudgingly  and  with  insult."  She 
fell  back  again  upon  the  sofa  with  the  air  of  one  over 
whelmed  with  grief.  The  doctor  looked  at  her  as  if 
half-bewildered,  then  turned  to  his  son  and  said,  in  a 
tone  of  less  severity,  "  There  is  something  in  all  this 
that  I  cannot  understand.  I  have  asked  an  explana 
tion,  which  you  have  not  chosen  to  give,  and,  as  you 
deny  nothing,  I  am  constrained  to  believe  that  you 
have  been  guilty  of  ungenerous  conduct,  — of  such  con 
duct  as  I  had  hoped  my  son  never  would  confess  to. 
There  is  but  one  way  in  which  you  can  atone  for  thus 
wounding  the  feelings  of  your  aunt,  and  I  trust  you 
have  the  manliness  to  make  an  acknowledgment 
immediately." 

If  Frank  had  obeyed  the  first  impulse,  he  would 
have  told  him  all;  for  he  valued  his  father's  good 
opinion  highly;  but  pride  and  a  contempt  of  his 
aunt's  ridiculous  conduct  kept  him  silent. 

The  doctor  waited  a  moment,  and  then  left  the 
room.  He  had  not  time  to  leave  the  hall  before 


CHANGES.  97 

Elmina  was  by  his  side,  saying,  earnestly,  ' '  Do  not 
go  away  in  anger,  dear  father ;  let  me  tell  you  how 
it  was.  Frank  was  not  so  very  much  to  blame." 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  doctor  kindly,  "you  look  as 
anxious  and  grieved  as  though  it  were  yourself  who 
had  incurred  my  displeasure,  instead  of  your  high- 
spirited  brother." 

"Listen  to  me  papa,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  for 
give  Frank."  In  her  earnest,  truthful  tones  did 
Elmina  repeat  the  conversation  which  had  caused 
such  a  breeze  in  their  usually  quiet  family.  Gently 
excusing  her  brother,  yet  speaking  kindly  of  James, 
she  related  the  story  without  alteration  or  coloring. 
"  Thank  you,  my  dear  little  girl,"  said  her  father 
when  she  had  finished;  "you  ought  to  be  called  our 
peacemaker.  Frank  was  quite  excusable  for  getting 
angry  with  the  saucy  James ;  indeed,  I  wonder  at 
his  forbearance.  I  blame  him  only  for  not  explain 
ing  the  affair  to  me,  though  I  presume  I  should  have 
been  too  proud  when  I  was  of  his  age  to  say  much 
for  myself  in  the  presence  of  a  crying  woman." 

"0,  father,"  cried  Elmina.  joyfully,  "I  am  so 
glad  you  are  not  angry  with  him  now !  Won't  you 
go  back  and  tell  him  ?  He  must  be  miserable  till  you 
do." 

"  Yes,  Mina,  I  will  go  back  ;  and  I  must  tell  the 
news  which  aunt  Jane  s  doleful  story  quite  put  out 
of  my  head." 

She  led  her  father  back  in  triumph.  Her  aunt 
retained  her  disconsolate  position  upon  the  sofa,  and 
Frank  sat  leaning  his  head  sorrowfully  upon  his 
hand.  He  raised  his  eyes,  humid  with  tears,  to  the 
doctor,  as  he  approached,  and  exclaimed:  "Forgive 
me,  father  !  my  silly  pride  shall  no  longer  permit  you 
to  think  me  so  much  worse  than  I  really  am.  I  will 
tell  it  all  —  " 

7 


98  THE    HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

"There's  no  need  of  that,  my  son  ;  Mina  has  got 
the  start  of  you,  and  led  me  back  to  make  peace 
between  us." 

Frank  looked  gratefully  upon  his  sister,  and  took 
his  father's  hand  with  a  swelling  heart.  ':  Aunt  Jane 
will  be  as  glad  as  any  of  us  when  she  hears  the  truth 
of  the  story,"  said  the  doctor.  "James  was  so  blinded 
with  anger  that  he  exaggerated  greatly." 

"  What  am  I  to  understand  by  this?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Clement,  rising  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  fixing  her 
piercing  black  eyes  upon  her  brother-in-law. 

"Why.  Jane,  ?tis  nothing  but  a  boyish  quarrel 
which  you  have  afflicted  yourself  so  much  about,  and 
has  no  connection  with  you." 

"  Ah,  I  see.  I  understand."  she  cried,  resorting  to 
her  handkerchief  again;  "you  take  sides  with  your 
son  against  me.  and  this  is  no  longer  a  home  for  me 
and  mine.  0.  dear  !  0,  dear !  I  might  have  known 
this  would  have  been  the  end  of  it !  "  She  flung 
herself  from  the  room  in  violent  hysterics. 

The  remaining  party  looked  at  each  other  in  blank 
surprise.  Frank's  keen  sense  of  the  ludicrous  over 
came  other  sensations,  and  he  burst  into  a  laugh, 
saying,  "  It  is  as  good  as  a  play !  I  wish  Clint 
could  have  seen  her." 

The  doctor  laughed  good-humoredly  at  this  sally, 
which  he  did  not  reprove ;  Elmina  looked  sober,  — 
"  I  am  sure  she  feels  very  unhappy,  and  I  don't  think 
we  ought  to  laugh  about  her." 

"  Nor  do  I.  Elmina."  said  the  doctor:  "we  should 
he  indulgent  to  infirmities  of  temper,  as  well  as  those 
of  the  body.  She  will  see  things  more  clearly  in  tlifi 
morning,  and.  if  we  are  all  kind  to  her.  will,  I  dare 
say,  be  quite  reconciled.  Now,  Frank,  I  have  some 
important  news  for  you." 

"Yes.  father.  I  am  all  attention." 


CHANGES.  99 

' :  I  have  received  two  letters,  —  one  concerning 
yourself,  and  one  about  Clinton.  You  recollect  Col. 
Whitney,  my  old  college  chum,  who  was  here  last 
summer  ?  Well,  he  is  going  to  spend  two  years  in 
Europe,  principally  engaged  in  important  public  busi 
ness,  but  intends  to  spend  some  time  in  sight-seeing 
or  'pleasure-hunting,'  as  he  terms  it.  He  needs  a 
secretary,  and  he  does  you  the  honor  to  say  that  he 
knows  of  no  young  man  whom  he  should  prefer  for 
that  office.  He  makes  a  most  liberal  offer,  and  desires 
an  immediate  reply.  How  does  the  project  please 
you?" 

"I  should  be  delighted  to  travel,  father;  but  I 
shall  be  twenty  in  two  years,  and  of  course  could  not 
enter  college  until  after  my  return,  should  I  accept 
Col.  Whitney's  kind  oifer.  Would  it  not  be  a  long 
time  to  put  it  off  ?  " 

"  True ;  yet  I  am  not  certain  that  it  would  be 
wise  to  reject  this  fine  opportunity.  I  am  not  of  the 
opinion  of  those  who  think  that  man  in  immature 
years  is  unfit  for  receiving  benefit  from  travelling. 
The  mind  is  fresh  and  unprejudiced  in  youth,  and 
receives  impressions  more  readily  than  at  a  later 
period  of  life.  In  two  years'  travel  you  might  learn 
what  would  be  of  incalculable  benefit  to  you.  and 
undoubtedly  would  acquire  an  ease  and  polish  of 
manner  which  is  very -desirable.  Indeed,  I  advise 
you  to  accept  the  colonel's  invitation.  I  have  such 
confidence  in  my  friend,  that  I  should  be  happy  in 
trusting  you  to  his  guardianship." 

';If  you  approve,  my  father,  I  shall  certainly  go. 
I  feared  you  would  think  it  unwise,  as  my  studies 
are  unfinished ;  but,  as  you  say,  I  shall  be  learning 
a  great  deal.  I  dare  say  I  could  learn  more  of  the 
modern  languages  in  travelling  than  in  many  years' 
study." 


100  TUB    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

"You  would,  undoubtedly.  Frank;  and.  if  nothing 
occurs  to  prevent,  you  would  be  ready  to  enter  upon 
the  duties  of  your  profession  at  twenty-five,  which  is 
in  better  season  than  I  commenced." 

"  Then  shall  not  we  consider  the  matter  settled  ? 
I  grow  more  pleased  with  the  plan  as  we  talk  about 
it.  But  how  soon  does  the  colonel  start  ?  " 

"In  about  a  month.  He  will  write  more  par 
ticularly  concerning  it  when  he  learns  your  decis 
ion." 

"  Then,  pray,  write  immediately,  father,  and  tell 
him  I  accept  his  proposals,  and  will  endeavor  to  per 
form  my  duties  to  his  satisfaction.  Two  Avhole  years 
in  Europe  !  It  seems  like  a  dream.  I  cannot  realize 
it." 

"Realize  what?"  repeated  Clinton,  who  had  over 
heard  the  last  words  as  he  entered  the  room. 

"  Why,  Clint.  I  'm  going  to  Europe  with  Col. 
Whitney  !  —  actually  going  to  Europe  ! ''" 

"  Going  to  Europe?  " 

"Don't  look  so  mystified,  Clint,"  said  the  doctor. 
laughing  at  the  sui*prise  depicted  upon  his  face ;  "  it  is 
a  fact.  Col.  Whitney  has  invited  him  to  accompany 
him  on  a  tour  through  Europe,  as  his  secretary,  and 
he  has  concluded  to  accept." 

"Accept!  of  course  he'd  accept  such  an  offer," 
said  Clinton.  "Why,  how  do  you  feel,  Frank?  I 
should  be  crazy  with  joy  had  I  such  a  prospect.  Why, 
boy,  you  don't  act  as  though  you  cared  anything 
about  it !  " 

"  I  am  glad,  Clint,  very  glad,  though  I  don't  go 
into  ecstasies,  as  you  would.  I  can  be  glad  without 
taking  the  house-top  off  with  my  antics." 

"  Of  course;  but  I  never  can  be  so  cool  about  any 
thing.  I  have  to  act  as  well  as  feel." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  there's  a  chance  for  your  acting ; 


CHANGES.  101 

for  I  have  a  second  letter,  which  is  as  important  for 
you  as  the  first  was  for  Frank." 

"  For  me  ?  "  said  Clinton ;  "  it  is  something  good, 
I  know,  for  good  things  never  come  singly." 

"It  is  something  pretty  good,  I  think,"  said  the 
doctor,  "and  you  will  be  right  glad,  I'm  sure.  It 
seems  that  Mr.  Evans  took  a  great  fancy  to  you  at 
the  time  of  the  school  examination.  He  told  me  at 
that  time  that  he  shouldn't  lose  sight  of  you.  Well, 
he  and  his  lady  (who,  by  the  way,  is  an  old  school 
teacher  of  yours)  have  been  travelling  through  the 
Canadas  ever  since  they  were  here,  and  are  intending 
to  visit  the  principal  southern  cities  this  coming  au 
tumn,  before  they  return  to  St.  Louis,  their  place  of 
residence.  He  writes  that  if  you  will  go  with  him 
and  assist  him,  during  the  intervals  of  the  journey, 
in  copying  business  papers,  etc.,  he  will  pledge  him 
self  to  place  you  in  a  situation,  where,  with  industry 
and  economy,  you  may  make  a  fortune  in  the  world. 
Mr.  Evans  is  an  influential  business  man,  and  would, 
I  doubt  not,  be  able  to  keep  his  promise." 

"He  is  very  kind."  said  Clinton,  modestly,  "to 
have  so  good  an  opinion  of  me ;  but  I  am  surprised, 
sir,  that  he  should  take  such  notice  of  a  poor  orphan 
boy  like  me." 

"  All  people  are  liable  to  their  fancies  and  whims, 
and  it  is  very  plain  that  this  Mr.  Evans  fancies  you. 
There  's  nothing  very  wonderful  about  it,  either,  my 
boy ;  have  you  not  always  been  my  favorite  ?  " 
'  "  0.  my  kind  benefactor  !  "  cried  Clinton,  Avith 
grateful  warmth,  "do  not  imagine  me  so  vain  as  to 
suppose  myself  the  least  deserving  of  all  your  favors 
to  me.  It  was  from  the  fulness  of  your  benevolent 
heart  that  you  cherished  the  fatherless  boy.  And 
wherever  I  may  go,  whatever  path  I  may  walk  in, 
your  name  will  be  remembered  with  the  tenderest 
gratitude." 


102  THE   HARVEST   OP  LOVE. 

"  I  understand  you,  Clinton  ;  I  know  all  you  would 
say ;  your  grateful  temper  magnifies  all  that  I  have 
done  for  you.  But  we  must  talk  of  Mr.  Evans'  pro 
posals  now." 

"  If  you.  sir,  think  best,  I  should  be  glad  to  go. 
Indeed,  I  think  it  would  be  wrong  for  me  to  neglect 
so  good  an  opportunity  of  gaining  my  own  livelihood.'' 

' '  I  advise  you  to  go,  by  all  means ;  and  my  bless 
ing  go  with  you,:!  said  the  doctor,  earnestly.  "  Mr. 
Evans  writes  that  he  shall  be  in  Oakville  next  week, 
and  hopes  to  find  you  ready  to  accompany  him.  El- 
mina  will  be  your  little  seamstress,  so  that  you  shall 
be  ready  in  time." 

"  Good  luck  to  you,  Clinton  !  "  said  Frank.  "Be 
fore  I  have  my  first  patient  you  will  be  a  rich  mer 
chant,  without  doubt." 

"  Thank  you,  Dr.  Frank,"  said  Clinton,  laughing; 
"  but  I  guess  your  bright  prophecy  will  be  a  long 
time  in  coming  to  pass.  You  Avill  come  home  from 
Europe  a  travelled  gentleman,  and  I  shall  be  a  poor, 
plodding  clerk." 

The  two  young  friends  chatted  cheerily  of  their 
pleasant  prospects,  without  thinking  of  the  long  sepa 
ration  before  them,  and  the  doctor  went  to  his  study, 
to  answer  the  two  important  communications.  Pres 
ently  a  quivering  sigh  startled  our  two  castle-builders, 
and  they  both  turned,  with  one  impulse,  to  Elmina, 
Avhom  they  had  forgotten.  She  stood  looking  mourn 
fully  at  them,  her  dark  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  and 
her  lip  trembling.  Then  they  realized  that  their  little 
band  must  be  broken  up ;  their  loving  hearts  widely 
severed. 

"  0,  Frank  !  Clinton  !  how  can  I  part  with  both  my 
brothers  at  once?"  exclaimed  Elmina.  in  a  broken 
Voice. 

"  Sweet  sister,  how  can -we  leave  you?"  they  cried 
together.  They  encircled  her  in  their  arms,  they 


CHANGES.  108 

kissed  her  wet  cheeks,  and  though  each  strove,  with 
boyish  pride,  to  drive  back  their  tears,  they  would 
come,  and  fell  upon  her  clustering  hair.  "  And 
Dora,  she  will  cry,  too,"  said  Elinina,  remembering 
her  sweet  friend. 

"  One  moment  ago,"  said  Clinton,  "  I  was  full  of 
ioy  at  the  thought  of  going,  and  now  it  seems  as 
though  I  cannot  go," 

"And  I,"  said  Frank,  "did  not  think  how  long 
two  years  is  to  be  from  one's  home  and  friends." 

Some  natures,  weak  and  dependent,  when  there  is 
a  stronger  heart  to  lean  upon,  grow  brave  and  hopeful 
in  proportion  to  the  waning  courage  of  those  around 
them.  Thus  with  Elmina.  When  she  perceived  the 
painful  struggles  in  the  minds  of  her  brothers,  she  for 
tified  her  own  heart  to  cheer  and  reassure  those  she 
loved. 

"  How  foolish  we  were,"  she  said,  •'  to  imagine  that 
%ve  should  always  live  together  in  the  same  pleasant 
way  we  have  so  long !  Of  course  we  must  be  sepa 
rated  some  time,  and  we  must  have  brave  hearts  IKNV 
the  trial  has  come.  What  a  glad  meeting  we  shall 
have  some  time !  Why,  my  -dear  brothers,  where 
would  be  the  delightful  meetings  we  hear  of,  were 
there  no  partings?" 

"Mina  hasn't  forgotten  her  old  trick  of  finding 
silver  in  every  cloud,"  said.« Frank. 

"She  is  always  a  sunshiny,  hopeful  spirit,"  said 
Clinton.  "  It  is  just  like  herself  to  conceal  her  own 
grief  to  console  us  " 

"  Flatterers  !  "  said  Elmina,  playfully.  i:  I  should 
scold  you,  were  you  not  going  away  so  soon.  And 
don't  talk  ef  my  concealing  grief,  — as  though  I  shall 
be  completely  forlorn  when  you  are  away  !  Not  but 
that  I  shall  miss  you  sadiy,"  she  continued,  in  a 
changed  voice,  "  0,  so  sadlj  I  " 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    FORTUNES   OF   CLINTON. 

"  How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught,  ~ 

That  servcth  not  another's  will ; 
Whose  armor  is  his  honest  thought, 
And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill  ! '  * 

THREE  months  after  the  incidents  recorded  in  the 
previous  chapter,  Clinton  Forrest  visited  for  the  second 
time,  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love.  Not  as  before  did 
he  tread  those  crowded  streets,  with  a  bounding  step 
and  a  heart  throbbing  with  excitement  and  eager  curi 
osity,  but  soberly  and  thoughtfully  ;  a  feeling  of  lone 
liness  pressed  painfully  upon  him,  for  not  one  of  the 
passing  multitude  had  a  thought  or  word  for  him. 

He  entered  a  fashionable  street,  and  passed  along 
the  line  of  elegant  dwelling-houses,  meanwhile  pa 
tiently  comparing  the  names  upon  the  door-plates 
with  the  superscription  of  a  letter  which  he  held  in 
his  band.  At  length  he  paused  before  a  door  on  which 
was  engraved,  in  golden  characters,  "Amos  Gay;" 
and,  after  assuring  himself  that  the  names  upon  the 
letter  and  door-plate  agreed,  he  ascended  the  steps 
and  touched  the  silver  bell-knob.  His  timid  call  was 
immediately  answered,  and,  upon  his  inquiry  for  the 
master  of  the  house,  he  was  shown  into  a  richly- 
furnished  apartment.  Here  was  assembled  a  cheerful 
group,  consisting  of  an  elderly  gentleman,  a  fair, 
matronly  lady,  and  two  lovely  voung  girls.  Una- 

(10-1) 


THE  FORTUNES  OF  CLINTON.        105 

baslied  by  the  stately  elegance  of  everything  about 
him,  or  by  the  haughty  stare  of  the  elder  young  lady, 
he  advanced  directly  to  the  gentleman  and  presented 
his  letter  of  introduction.  Mr.  Gay  took  the  letter 
without  a  word,  and  then  Clinton  might  have  felt  some 
embarrassment,  had  not  Miss  Fannie  Gay  handed  him 
a  seat,  with  a  smile  and  a  few  sweet  words,  which 
made  him  quite  at  ease. 

After  slowly  reading  the  letter  twice  through,  Mr. 
Gay  arose  and  took  Clinton  by  the  hand,  saying,  "I 
am  glad  to  see  you,  Clinton  Forrest.  Mrs.  Gay, 
Marian,  Fannie,  this  is  Master  Clinton  Forrest,"  he 
continued,  introducing  him  to  the  ladies.  Clinton 
bowed  gracefully,  though  with  heightened  color,  and 
Fannie  pronounced  him,  in  her  own  mind,  the  hand- 
eomest  boy  she  had  seen  in  all  her  life. 

"  If  all  that  my  friend,  Mr.  Evans,  states,  is  liter 
ally  true,"  said  Mr.  Gay,  regarding  our  young  hero 
with  a  pleasant  smile,  "  he  certainly  has  done  me  a 
favor  in  introducing  to  nay  notice  so  enterprising  and 
talented  a  young  man.  But  were  you  not  here  in 
the  autumn,  with  Mr.  Evans  and  his  lady?" 

Clinton  informed  him  that  he  had  been  for  three 
months  with  Mr.  Evans,  acting  as  his  secretary. 

"So  he  writes,"  replied  Mr.  Gay,  referring  to 
the  letter :  ' '  and  that  fact  is  a  standing  certificate 
for  yourself.  I  know  Evans  well  as  a  business 
man.  You  have  come  just  in  time,  for  I  need  another 
salesman,  and,  though  you  are  young,  I  think  I  will 
give  you  a  trial.  I  dare  say  you  will  suit  admirably. 
Come  into  my  library,  and  we  will  settle  all  the  pre 
liminaries." 

While  Clinton  is  closeted  with  the  merchant,  we 
will  take  the  opportunity  to  relate  to  the  reader  the 
principal  events  which  had  conspired  to  place  Clinton 
in  his  present  novel  position. 


106  .     TIIE    HARVEST    OF    Lt'VK. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evans  were  delighted  with  the  lad 
they  had  chosen  for  a  travelling  companion ;  indeed, 
his  intelligence  and  vivacity,  with  his  obliging  and 
gentlemanly  manners,  made  him  a  very  desirable  as 
sociate.  Philadelphia  was  their  first  stopping-place, 
and  here  they  remained  three  weeks.  In  this  great 
metropolis,  the  eager,  inquiring  mind  of  Clinton  found 
a  boundless  source  of  interest.  He  labored  faithfully 
to  prove  to  his  new  friends  that  the  confidence  they 
reposed  in  him  was  not  unfounded.  Though  novelty 
and  excitement  tempted  him  sorely,  he  passed  the 
largest  share  of  each  day  in  copying  and  revising 
business  papers,  casting  accounts,  writing  letters, 
etc.  ;  all  of  which  he  accomplished  to  the  entire  satis 
faction  of  his  employer. 

His  first  act,  upon  entering  the  city,  was  to  write 
to  Elnrina,  the  loved  companion  of  his  childhood  hours, 
the  dear  sister  to  whom  he  owed  so  much.  His  letter 
contained  a  sprightly  account  of  the  incidents  of  his 
journey,  and  was  replete  with  brotherly  affection. 
He  eagerly  waited  for  a  reply,  but  the  days  came  and 
went,  and  still  no  letter  from  Elmina.  After  a  fort 
night  had  passed,  his  impatient  spirit  could  brook  no 
longer  delay,  and  he  wrote  again,  desiring  her  to  ad 
dress  him  at  Baltimore,  where  they  were  intending 
to  pass  some  little  time.  But  at  Baltimore  he  was 
doomed  to  disappointment ;  for,  though  he  haunted 
the  post-office  day  after  day,  there  was  no  missive  for 
him. 

Much  surprised  and  wounded  at  this  unexpected 
neglect,  he  tried  to  console  himself  by  forming  ex 
cuses  for  Elmina;  but  he  could  think  of  none  that 
seemed  plausible.  Even  if  she  were  sick  and  unable 
to  write  herself,  he  felt  that  she  should  have  answered 
his  second  earnest  and  importunate  letter  through 
some  one  else.  Under  a  sudden  impulse  he  com- 


THE    FORTUNES    OE    CLINTON.  107 

menced  to  write  again ;  but  his  proud  spirit  rose,  and 
he  tore  the  sheet  in  twain.  Then  he  thought  of 
writing  to  the  doctor ;  but  he  put  the  thought  quickly 
away,  for,  if  Elmina  valued  his  friendship  so  lightly, 
he  could  not  expect  the  continued  regard  of  her  father. 

0,  it  was  a  sore  trial  for  the  poor  boy  !  He  pon 
dered  upon  it,  and  each  day  felt  the  disappointment 
and  mortification  more  keenly.  By  Elmina  s  unmer 
ited  neglect  of  him  he  felt  as  if  severed  from  all  the 
friends  who  had  made  the  few  past  years  of  his  life  so 
useful  and  happy.  He  concealed  the  cause  of  his 
grief  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Evans ;  yet  they  were  not 
unobservant  of  his  abstracted  manner  and  sober  coun 
tenance.  When  his  appetite  forsook  him  his  kind 
friends  became  really  anxious  ;  and,  fearing  he  had 
worked  too  hard  for  his  health,  they  planned  excur 
sions  of  pleasure,  and  took  every  pains  to  restore  him 
to  his  former  cheerfulness. 

Grateful  for  their  kindness,  Clinton  tried  to  appear 
cheerful,  and  he  succeeded  so  well  as  to  relieve  all 
their  anxieties.  Now  the  traveller's  resumed  their 
journey,  with  the  intention  of  going  to  New  Orleans 
as  quickly  as  consistent  with  comfort.  Mr.  Evans 
had  decided  to  pass  the  winter  in  New  Orleans,  as  he 
had  two  brothers  resident  there,  one  of  whom  was 
sick  with  consumption. 

Clinton  began  to  reproach  himself  for  giving  up 
his  Oakville  friends  so  easily.  "  I  will  write  to  dear 
Josephine  Lee,"  he  thought;  "she  must  be  glad  to 
hear  from  her  brother,  as  she  always  called  me:  and 
Mina  possibly  had  some  reason  for  not  writing  before, 
and  may  now  be  wishing  to  know  where  to  direct  a 
letter.  I  will  write  a  note  to  her,  and  inclose  it  in 
Josiers  letter."  No  sooner  was  the  resolve  formed 
than  acted  upon,  and  then  his  spirits  rose  ten  degrees, 
inspired  with  hope  and  pleasing  expectation.  He  re« 


108  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

quested  Josephine  to  address  him  at  a  town  nearly  a 
week  from  them  in  their  journey,  and  where  he  knew 
his  friends  intended  to  stop  a  few  days  to  rest.  This 
arrangement,  he  felt  sure,  would  give  sufficient  time 
for  a  letter  to  reach  him,  even  if  Josephine  should  be 
a  little  dilatory,  which  seemed  to  him  would  not  be 
the  cuse.  He  was  so  strong  in  hope,  that,  when  he 

arrived  at  B ,  and  found  no  letter  waiting  for  him, 

he  would  not  acknowledge  to  himself  that  he  was  any 
disappointed.  But  hope  diminished  every  day,  and 

when,  on  the  sixth  day  (the  last  of  his  stay  in  B ), 

he  heard  the  dreaded  words,  "Nothing  for  you,"  he 
could  not  restrain  the  tears  of  disappointment  which 
gushed  from  his  eyes ;  and,  when  alone  in  his  cham 
ber,  he  gave  unrestrained  vent  to  his  grief. 

":  0,  Josephine  !  Elmina  !  "  he  cried  to  himself  in 
sorrow ;  ' '  you  have  been  very,  very  kind  to  me ; 
too  kind;  for  now  I  know  that  all  your  kind 
acts  were  performed  through  goodness  of  heart,  not 
friendship  or  affection.  My  heart  is  almost  broken ! 
I  was  wrong  to  expect  that  two  such  lovely  and 
accomplished  ladies  would  correspond  with  a  poor 
orphan  boy  like  me.  I  will  trouble  them  no  more  with 
my  letters ;  but  some  time  in  the  years  to  come  they 
may  not  be  ashamed  to  own  me  as  a  friend.  Ah  ! 
but  Elmina  must  be  changed !  Could  such,  a  little 
angel  as  she  was  become  a  proud,  scornful  woman  ? 
No,  that  could  not  be !  Forgive  me,  dear  Mina,  for 
such  a  thought.  And  Josie  Lee's  last  words  were  so 
cordial,  I  thought  they  were  sincere.  If  such  as  she 
grow  cold  so  soon,  friendship  is  little  worth  to  me. 
0,  father,  mother,  sisters,  brothers  —  there  are  none  for 
me  —  none  on  earth  from  whom  I  can  claim  affection ! ' ' 

Thus  did  poor  Clint  mourn  over  his  slighted  friend 
ship  :  and,  indeed,  it  was  a  trial  of  no  small  magni 
tude  for  one  situated  like  him.  Josie  and  Mina  had 


THE   FORTUNES   OE   CLINTON.  109 

stepped  into  his  unoccupied  affections,  and,  at  their 
call,  many  friends  had  gathered  around  him ;  but  of 
all.  these  two  were  the  dearest. 

A  resolve  grew  up  in  Clinton's  mind,  strong  and 
deep,  that  he  would  never  force  himself  upon  the  no 
tice  of  any,  merely  because  they  had  befriended  hia 
unfortunate  childhood.  His  proud  spirit  forbade 
another  attempt  to  gain  the  attention  of  his  former 
friends  in  Oakville.  "  I  will  bid  a  long  'good-by: 
to  Oakville,"  was  his  mental  exclamation;  "but 
when  I  am  a  man," — and  his  head  rose,  while  a 
half-exultant  smile  gleamed  through  the  falling  tears, 
—  ' :  when  I  am  a  man,  I  will  return,  and  then  they 
shall  not  be  ashamed  to  take  me  by  the  hand ;  for, 
God  helping  me,  I  will  earn  an  honorable  name 
among  men.  Though  Josie  Lee  may  forget  the  poor 
boy  to  whom  she  was  so  kind.  I  will  never  forget  her 
good  instructions."  Thus  did  Clinton,  in  the  midst 
of  his  sorrow,  form  high  resolves  for  action:  and  the 
sequel  will  show  to  the  reader  how  well  he  acted  upon 
them. 

Mr.  Evans  was  greatly  shocked,  upon  arriving  at 
New  Orleans,  to  see  the  ravages  disease  had  made 
upon  his  invalid  brother.  Towards  spring  the  sick 
man  revived,  and  his  physician  declared  that  a  trans- 
Atlantic  voyage  would  be  beneficial,  and  expressed  a 
conviction  that  he  might  live  several  months  in  salu 
brious  and  sunny  Italy.  Mr.  Evans  felt  it  his  duty' 
to  accompany  his  brother,  and  with  the  kind  offices  of 
affection  smooth  his  decline  to  the  grave.  It  was 
soon  arranged  that  they  should  go  in  March,  and  Mrs. 
Evans  was  to  go  with  them.  Mr.  Evans  felt  anxiety 
and  regret  on  Clinton's  account.  He  had  promised 
to  place  him  in  a  lucrative  situation  under  his  own 
supervision;  but,  after  the  sudden  turn  affairs  had 
taken,  that  would  be  impracticable.  Clinton  begged 


110  THE   HARVEST  OF  LOVE. 

him  to  feel  no  anxiety  for  him,  and  said  that  if  Le 
would  procure  him  a  clerkship  in  some  mercantile 
house,  he  would  be  satisfied.  Mr.  Evans  felt  confi 
dent  he  could  do  that,  and,  after  considering  the  mat 
ter  a  little  time,  concluded  to  send  him  to  his  old 
friend,  Mr.  Amos  Gay,  a  wealthy  merchant  of  Phil 
adelphia. 

Clinton  bade  an  affectionate  and  regretful  adieu  tc- 
his  friends.  He  stood  gazing  upon  the  ship  which 
bore  them  away,  until  the  white  sails  faded  to  a  speck 
in  the  distance,  and  then  turned  away  with  an 
indescribable  feeling  of  loneliness. 

At  parting,  Mr.  Evans  placed  a  letter  in  his  hand, 
saying,  "  Give  this  to  Mr.  Gay,  and  believe  me.  dear 
boy,  I  feel  assured  it  will  secure  you  the  attention 
and  respect  of  that  gentleman.  Serve  him  as  indus 
triously  and  faithfully  as  you  have  me.  and  I  have  no 
fears  for  you.  Goocl-by,  and  may  God  bless  you  !  " 

Saddened  and  somewhat  bewildered  by  the  chang 
ing  events  of  the  past  weeks,  yet  undiscouraged,  our 
young  friend  turned  towards  Philadelphia.  The 
reader  is  already  acquainted  with  the  manner  of  his 
reception  by  Mr.  Gay.  The  merchant  was  greatly 
prepossessed  in  favor  of  the  frank,  handsome  boy,  and 
readily  engaged  him  for  a  month  on  trial. 

Now  behold  Clint  Forrest  in  a  new  and  untried 
position,  yet  one  very  congenial  with  his  tastes  and 
capacities.  He  studied  to  gain  the  approval  of  his 
employer,  and  succeeded  beyond  his  highest  hopes. 
He  boarded  in  Mr.  Gay:s  family,  and  sat  at  the  same 
table.  Miss  Marion  Gay  remonstrated  with  her  fa 
ther  upon  the  impropriety  of  treating  a  mere  clerk  with 
such  respect ;  but  the  old  gentleman  was  determined 
it  should  be  so,  out  of  regard  for  Mr.  Evans,  and  the 
young  lady  was  obliged  to  acquiesce.  Clint  was  not 
long  in  winning  the  affection  of  the  whole  family. 


THE   FORTUNES   OF    CLINTON.  Ill 

Mr.  Gay  pronounced  him  a  jewel  of  a  clerk ;  the 
lady  of  the  mansion  thought  him  the  most  gentle 
manly  lad  of  her  acquaintance ;  Fannie  loved  dearly 
to  laugh  and  chat  with  him :  and  even  Marion  ac 
knowledged  that  he  was  a  very  pleasant  addition  to 
the  family  circle. 

Clinton  possessed  a  ready  tact  and  a  peculiarly  pleas 
ing  manner,  which  made  him  a  most  successful  sales 
man.  It  was  not  long  before  it  was  acknowledged  by  all 
in  the  establishment  that  he  was  the  quickest  and!  most 
clever  clerk  among  them.  "In  fact,  he  created  quite 
an  interest  in  the  hearts  of  the  buyers  of  silks  and 
ribbons.  (Clint  had  grown  rapidly  of  late,  and 
appeared  older  than  he  really  was.)  The  old  ladies 
were  charmed  with  his  respectful  attention  to  them  ; 
the  middle-aged  praised  his  polite  and  genteel  man 
ners,  and  the  young  girls  thought  him  so  handsome 
and  witty  :  each  and  all  were  desirous  of  being  waited 
upon  by  the  black-eyed  little  clerk. 

At  the  end  of  a  month  Mr.  Gay  engaged  him  for 
a  year  at  a  liberal  salary.  When  Clint  modestly 
expressed  his  surprise  at  his  generosity,  his  kind 
patron  assured  him  that,  if  he  were  always  as  faithful, 
the  indebtedness  Avould  all  be  on  his  own  part. 
Though  Mr.  Gay  was  a  worthy  man.  he  was  some 
what  irritable,  and  often  very  angry  at  the  merest 
trifle ;  but  Clinton  was  avowedly  his  favorite,  and 
every  accident  or  short-coming  on  his  part  was  over 
looked  with  the  utmost  good  nature.  Clinton  was  in 
a  dangerous  position  for  one  of  his  susceptible  age; 
but  without  being  at  all  elated  by  the  smiles  and 
praises  lavished  upon  him,  he  performed  his  duties 
quietly  and  humbly.  We  have  spoken  of  him  as  be 
ing  proud-spirited,  yet  it  was  not  that  kind  of  pride 
which  is  stimulated  by  flattery  or  preferment,  but  the 
principle  belonging  peculiarly  to  noble,  self-reliant 


112  THE   HARVEST   OF    LOVE. 

minds.  It  was  this  very  pride  which  lifted  him  above 
all  feelings  of  vanity.  There  was  one  who  looked 
upon  our  successful  hero  with  an  envious  eye.  A 
young  man  named  Jackson,  who  had  been  connected 
with  the  house  from  a  boy,  —  first  as  errand-boy, 
then  gradually  rising  to  more  important  places  till  he 
had  become  one  of  the  first  clerks,  —  became  extremely 
jealous  of  him.  He  had  secretly  looked  for  still 
greater  preferment,  and,  through  the  agency  of  the 
junior  partner,  his  uncle,  he  had  flattered  himself 
that,  at  a  future  period,  his  name  would  be  added  to 
the  firm.  Jackson  considered  Clinton  as  his  rival, 
and,  when  he  saw  how  he  was  beloved  by  Mr.  Gay.  he 
wickedly  determined  to  injure  him  in  the  opinion  of 
their  employer. 

Though  Clinton  possessed  the  happy  faculty  of 
making  the  patrons  of  the  store  pleased  with  himself, 
and  with  the  articles  he  vended,  he  was  too  conscien 
tious  to  take  advantage  of  the  unsuspecting  or  igno 
rant.  Jackson,  ever  ready  to  find  fault  with  him, 
scornfully  called  him  "  Honest  Clint."  and  took  every 
occasion  to  deride  his  punctilious  regard  for  truth. 
He  would  often  hint  to  Mr.  Sands,  his  uncle,  that 
their  wonderful  little  clerk  was  not  such  a  genius  after 
all.  for  he  missed  many  a  good  bargain. 

"You  are  more  nice  than  wise,"  Mr.  Sands  would 
say  to  Clint.  "This  silly  whim  of  yours  will  spoil 
you  after  all,  and  it  is  too  bad  when  you  have  such  a 
fine  faculty.  There  comes  a  country  woman;  now 
display  your  genius ;  you  can  sell  her  anything  you 
please  at  your  own  price." 

But  Clinton  was  not  to  be  flattered  or  frightened 
away  from  the  high  standard  which  his  native  integ 
rity  declared  was  right.  He  was  obstinate,  so  Mr. 
Sands  said,  and  he  complained  to  his  elder  partner, 
who,  laughingly,  declared  that  honesty  was  so  rare  a 


THE   FORTUNES   OF   CLINTON.  113 

»  fault  it  was  quite  a  novelty,  and  that  Clint  should 
have  his  own  way. 

Jackson  was  in  despair,  and  vented  his  jealousy  by 
invidious  fault-finding.  "You  were  a  fool,'  he  said 
to  Clinton  one  day,  ' '  to  sell  that  lawn  for  three 
shillings.  The  old  woman  thought  it  so  fine  that  she 
would  have  taken  it  at  four  shillings." 

':  I  presume  so,"  said  Clinton  ;  "  but  she  paid  all  it 
was  worth,  and  only  ten  minutes  ago  I  sold  some  oft' 
the  same  piece  to  the  rich  Miss  Morton  for  three 
shillings.  What  reason  can  you  give  for  making  so 
much  difference  between  the  two?  " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  had  asked  Miss  Morton  more 
than  that,  she  would  have  laughed  in  your  face,  but 
that  old  woman  would  have  thought  it  all  right." 

"  /should  not  have  thought  it  right  to  cheat  a  poor 
old  lady  in  that  way !  "  cried  Clinton,  indignantly. 

"  HalJo,  boy!  don't  be  so  waxy,"  said  Jackson ; 
insultingly.  "No  such  thing  as  cheating  about  it. 

o  */  o  o 

She  would  n't  have  been  obliged  te  take  it  unless  she 
chose.  So,  where  's  the  harm  ?  " 

"  I  shan't  stop  to  reason  the  matter  with  you, 
but  while  I  stay  here  I  shall  not  play  with  my  con 
science  to  please  any  one." 

"While  you  stay  here!"  repeated  Jackson,  with 
emphasis;  "that's  well  put  in;  for,  mark  niy  word, 
young  sir,  though  you  are  up  now,  there  's  a  chance 
for  you  to  come  down." 

Saying  those  malicious  words,  die  young  man 
turned  away,  and  Clinton  forgot  his  vexation  in  the 
pleasure  of  measuring  off  a  yard  of  ribbon,  and  a  half- 
iiiinute's  chat  with  sweet  Faany  Gay, 

Lovely  spring  had  stepped  aside  for  -queenly  sum- 
auer,  and  summer  was  now  about  to  yield  lier  sceptre 
to  the  glowing  autumu.  The  time  had  passed  profit- 


114  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

ably  and  pleasantly  with  Clinton ;  and,  in  spite  of  his 
envious  companion,  he  was  steadily  growing  in  the 
affections  and  respect  of  all  around  him.  But  there 
was  a  cloud  in  his  horizon ;  yet  he  was  happily  uncon 
scious  of  the  rising  storm. 

Late  one  afternoon  several  large  bales  of  costly 
goods  were  received,  and  there  was  much  running  and 
confusion  in  getting  them  arranged  for  evening  sale. 
On  opening  a  package  of  rich  silks,  they  were  dis 
covered  to  be  considerably  damaged.  Mr.  Sands  was 
much  vexed  at  this  circumstance ;  for  the  silks  were 
of  a  new  style,  and  he  had  hoped  to  make  quick  sale 
of  them.  He  stood  musingly  a  few  moments,  and 
then  said  tolsbis  nephew,  "  \Ve  c.in  dispose  of  these 
if  we  only  take  the  right  way.  The  store  will  be 
thronged  to-night:  and  we  must  make  the  best  of  it. 

• 

Clint  Forrest  can,  if  he  is  not  too  wilful,  dispose  of 
every  damaged  piece;  he  is  such  a  favorite  with  the 
ladies  that  none  would  mistrust  the  possibility  of  his 
palming  off  bad  silk  upon  them. ' ' 

"La,  uncle,':  replied  Jackson,  "you  can't  coax 
'  honest  Clint '  to  carry  on  any  such  game,  he '&  such 
a  mighty  pious  chap !  " 

"I  shan't  coax  him,  but  order!  "  said  Mr.  Sands, 
impatiently.  "  You  go  call  him  to  me,  and  I  '11  give 
him  his  directions." 

On  a  settee,  at  a  little  distance  from  the  scene  of 
this  colloquy,  sat  a  gentleman  apparently  engrossed 
in  reading :  but  a  close  observer  could  have  seen,  from 
the  keen  glances  which  he  now  and  then  threw  over 
his  paper,  that  he  understood  the  state  of  affairs,  and 
was  interested  in  the  result.  He  was  of  a  portly 
figure,  and  possessed  a  countenance  strikingly  intel 
ligent.  His  broad  white  brow  overshadowed  a  pair 
of  eyes  of  the  clearest,  darkest  blue.  There  was  a 
pleasant  light  in  them  when  he  smiled;  but,  when 


THE   FORTUNES   OF   CLINTON.  115 

fixed  earnestly  upon  one,  they  seemed  capable  of 
reading  the  inmost  thought.  The  timid  or  guilty 
would  have  shrunk  abashed  from  a  glance  of  those 
keen,  searching  eyes.  His  mouth  was  large,  but  the 
snowy  teeth,  and  the  benevolent,  genial  smile  which 
hovered  round  it,  relieved  it  of  all  unpleasantness. 
He  appeared  easy  and  self-possessed,  and  was  evi 
dently  a  leisurely  gentleman.  When  Clinton  appeared, 
saying  that  he  was  ready  to  receive  Mr.  Sands' 
instructions,  the  gentleman's  face  lighted  up  with  a 
new  interest,  and,  though  the  conversation  was  carried 
on  in  an  under  tone,  he  looked  as  if  he  understood  it 
all  by  intuition. 

"I  Avant  you  to  take  your  station  here,  Clinton," 
said  Mr.  Sands.  ' '  Arrange  everything  in  the  most 
favorable  position,  and  make  it  your  business  to  sell 
these  silks.  Sell  every  piece  to-night,  if  possible  !  " 

"  But  these  silks  are  ;ill  more  or  less  injured,  sir." 

"  Some  of  the  pieces  are  not  quite  perfect,  I  know," 
replied  the  merchant,  a  little  uneasily;  "but  that's 
nothing  to  you  ;  your  duty  is  to  sell  them." 

There  was  a  flush  on  Clinton's  brow  as  he  said, 
deprecatingly,  "  Will  you  be  so  kind,  sir,  as  to  let 
me  work  somewhere  else  ?  I  think  Mr.  Jackson 
would  succeed  better  in  selling  the  silk  than  I  should." 

"There  is  no  one  who  could  succeed  better  than 
you,  if  you  only  use  your  wits  to  the  best  advantage  ; 
so  don't  make  any  excuses,  but  do  just  as  I  tell  you.:- 

"But,  sir,"  pleaded  the  boy. 

"No  'but  sirs'  to  me!"  shouted  Mr.  Sands, 
entirely  thrown  off  his  guard;  "obey  me!"  The 
clerks  looked  up  from  their  writing  at  the  outbreak, 
to  see  the  subject  of  this  imperative  command ;  and 
some  of  the  customers  turned  round  in  surprise. 
Blushing  and  mortified,  Clinton  passed  behind  the 
counter,  and  commenced  arranging  the  multitudinous 


116  THE  HARVEST  OP  LOVE. 

articles  \v  'i  which  it  was  strewed.  Mr.  Sands  looked 
at  him  sternly  for  a  moment,  then  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
as  he  turned  away,  "  As  you  value  your  position  in 
this  house,  Clinton  Forrest,  you  will  obey  my  direc 
tions." 

Clinton  continued  his  work  with  burning  cheeks 
and  downcast  eyes.  His  mind  was  in  such  a  tumult 
that  his  actions  were  confused,  and  he  stood  bewildered 
at  his  own  awkwardness.  Though  Jackson  was  busy, 
he  watched  him  with  one  eye,  and  chuckled  over  his 
discomfort.  The  gentleman  on  the  settee  threw  down 
his  paper  and  leaned  carelessly  back  Avith  half-closed 
eyes,  yet  he  could  see  Clinton's  face,  and,  from  its 
expressive  features,  read  the  workings  of  his  soul. 

When  the  lamps  were  lighted  Clint  drew  a  sup 
pressed  sigh,  and  clasped  his.  hands  convulsively,  as 
if  that  moment  his  fate  was  sealed.  The  keen  eyes 
watching  him  opened  suddenly,  and  their  possessor 
started  as  if  he  had  a  mind  to  leave  his  seat ;  but, 
after  a  momentary  hesitation,  he  leaned  back  again  in 
the  same  dreamy  attitude  as  before. 

A  little  girl  now  asked  for  some  gingham,  and 
Clinton,  blessing  her  in  his  heart  that  it  was  not  silk 
she  desired,  waited  upon  her  politely.  A  lady  called 
for  satin,  another  for  delaine,  cambric,  &c.,  &c.  The 
ladies  were  very  obliging,  for  they  seemed  to  demand 
everything  but  silk.  He  began  to  breathe  more 
freely,  when  an  elderly  lady,  with  a  stately  air, 
approached.  A  nervous  fear  possessed  him  that  she 
would  ask  for  silk,  — yes,  he  knew  she  would  want 
silk  !  Though  the  lady  spoke  quietly,  he  fancied 
her  tone  startlingly  loud  as  she  said,  "I  wish  to  look 
at  your  nice  silks. '; 

The  dreaded  moment  had  come !  With  a  great 
effort  at  self-control,  he  displayed  the  shining  fabrics, 
and.  with  composure  that  surprised  himself,  com- 


THE    FORTUNES    OF    CLINTON.  11"; 

merited  upon  their  richness  of  style  and  coloring 
The  fair  purchaser  turned  over  pattern  after  pattern 
with  a  dissatisfied  air.  "  Have  you  no  other  greens 
than  these  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  That   piece  under  your  hand  is  very  beautiful 
madam." 

i;  Very  true ;  hut  I  want  something  darker.  There 
is  a  piece  which  I  think  will  be  just  the  thing,"  she 
added,  pointing  to  a  pile  of  dark  patterns  upon  a  shelf. 

With  a  feeling  of  infinite  relief,  he  threw  down  a 
piece  of  dark  green,  which  he  knew  to  be  of  excellent 
quality.  The  lady  pronounced  it  to  be  "just  the 
thing,"  and  bargained  for  the  whole  of  it. 

Then  two  young  ladies  wished  to  look  at  black  silk. 
With  a  trembling  hand,  Clinton  displayed  the  article 
in  demand.  The  piece  which  appeared  to  please  them 
best,  though  fine  and  glossy,  was  so  much  injured  as 
to  be  nearly  worthless.  He  tried  to  turn  their  atten 
tion  to  some  other  pattern,  but  they  seemed  quite  set 
upon  that  one. 

The  girls  were  dressed  in  deep  mourning;  and, 
though  genteel  in  appearance,  it  was  evident  they 
were  far  from  being  wealthy.  The  tones  of  their 
voices,  as  they  conversed  softly  with  each  other,  were 
sad  and  touching.  There  was  something  very  inter 
esting  about  them. 

"I  am  afraid  we  can't  afford  it,  sister,"  said  one, 
gently. 

"  I  know  it  is  high,"  said  the  other;  "but  it  ap 
pears  to  be  an  excellent  piece,  and  you  know  'tis 
id  ways  economy  to  purchase  a  good  article." 

Clinton  drew  back  respectfully  while  they  discussed 
the  question.  Presently  the  elder  one,  turning  a 
pale,  sad  countenance  towards  him,  desired  him  to 
measure  off  two  dress  patterns. 

The  gentleman  on  the  settee  leaned  breathlessly 


118  TIIE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

forward,  while  Clinton,  ignorant  of  the  keen  scrutiny 
to  which  he  was  subject,  hesitatingly  balanced  the 
yard-stick  in  his  hand.  "Young  ladies,"  said  Clin 
ton,  with  sudden  resolution,  "  I  am  sure  that  silk 
would  not  suit  you.  I  cannot  deceive  you  ;  the  most 
of  it  is  badly  damaged.  I  will  show  you  some  which 
I  know  is  perfect,  and,  though  it  is  better  in  quality, 
you  shall  have  it  at  the  same  price."  So  saying,  he 
took  from  the  shelf  a  piece  of  excellent  quality,  which 
had  been  on  hand  several  weeks.  The  ladies  expressed 
themselves  satisfied,  and,  thanking  him  for  his  candor, 
departed  with  their  purchase. 

Jackson,  who  had  watched  Clinton  exultingly,  now 
went  to  Mr.  Sands,  and  told  him  that  Clinton  had  lost 
half  a  dozen  good  chances  for  disposing  of  the  injured 
silk :  that  he  was  selling  old  silk  instead  of  the  new, 
and  telling  everybody  that  the  goods  were  damaged. 

Glowing  with  passion,  Mr.  Sands  called  the  boy 
aside.  "  You  are  an  impudent,  audacious  fellow  !  " 
he  cried.  "  You  have  most  insultingly  disregarded 
ray  commands !  I  wish  Mr.  Gay  were  here.  I  think 
this  would  open  his  eyes  a  little." 

"  I,  too.  wish  he  were  here,"  said  Clinton,  calmly. 
"  I  am  certain  he  would  stand  my  friend  in  this  in 
stance." 

"  This  is  intolerable  !  "  exclaimed  the  merchant, 
with  an  assumption  of  insulted  dignity.  "  In  Mr. 
Gay's  absence,  you  consider  yourself  at  the  head  of 
the  establishment ;  but  you  will  find  that  there  are 
other  wills  here  besides  yours.  For  the  present  you 
must  change  places  with  Jackson,  and  to-morrow  you 
will  hear  more  upon  the  subject." 

Without  a  word.  Clinton  passed  to  the  lower  end 
of  the  store,  as  Sands  directed.  His  head  was  erect 
with  manly  dignity,  and  his  eye  burned  with  scornful 
indignation.  The  gentleman  who  had  watched  him 


THE   FORTUNES   OF    CLINTON.  119 

with  so  much  interest,  noted  his  appearance  with  a 
triumphant  smile,  and,  nodding  his  head  emphatically, 
as  if  to  express  his  approbation,  he  folded  his  paper 
and  leisurely  left  the  store. 

Mr.  Gay  had  been  absent  from  the  city  on  a  short 
pleasure-excursion;  and  when  he  returned,  on  the 
morrow,  his  partner  gave  him  an  exaggerated  and 
misrepresented  account  of  Clinton's  conduct.  The 
persecuted  boy  was  called  into  his  private  counting- 
room  for  a  conference  with  him.  The  old  gentleman 
was  very  angry,  and,  like  all  persons  in  that  state, 
exacting  and  unreasonable.  Clinton'  readily  perceived 
from  his  countenance  that  an  explanation,  at  that 
time,  would  be  worse  than  useless.  "Well,  young 
man,"  were  the  words  that  saluted  his  ear,  '-you  have 
gone  to  work  strangely  during  my  absence  :  you  have 
been  guilty  of  most  reprehensible  conduct;  you  have 
meanly  taken  advantage  of  my  favoritism  ;  you  have 
insulted  my  partner,  and  attempted  to  take  the  order 
ing  of  affairs  into  your  own  hands  ;  you  have  under 
valued  my  goods,  and  shown  yourself  very  careless 
of  my  interests." 

The  angry  man  paced  the  narrow  apartment,  as 
waiting  for  a  reply ;  but  the  poor  boy  was  almost 
breathless  at  such  unexpected  and  undeserved  charges. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  are  silent ;  silent  with  shame  ! 
I  did  think  you  were  worthy  of  my  affection ;  but  I 
now  say  that  you  are  ungrateful  —  unworthy  of  my 
patronage." 

"0,  my  dear  sir,  do  let  me  explain  it  to  you  — " 

"  Explain  !  "  interrupted  Mr.  Gay  ;  "  I  don't  want 
any  explanation.  Hasn't  Mr.  Sands  told  me  the 
whole  story,  and  is  n't  his  word  to  be  believed?  But, 
Clinton,"  he  continued,  more  calmly,  for  his  dis 
tressed  countenance  softened  him  somewhat,  "if  you 


120  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

will  promise  to  make  amends,  and  comply  with  Mr. 
Sands'  orders,  perhaps  we  can  overlook  this." 

"  I  will  comply  with  all  reasonable  commands;  but 
I  can't  sell  goods  that  I  know  to  be  damaged." 

"  Not  a  word  about  damaged  goods.  Damaged 
goods  in  my  store,  sir !  "  cried  the  merchant,  hotly. 
"  You  shan't  stay  in  my  employ  a  day  longer,  unless 
you  promise  to  obey  implicitly  all  my  directions  and 
those  of  my  partner.  I'm  determined  on  that!  So, 
will  you  promise  ?  " 

Though  greatly  agitated,  Clinton  answered,  respect 
fully,  "  I  am  sure  I  ought  not  to  make  such  a  prom 
ise  ;  will  you  please  to  let  me  go  away  now,  for  I 
know  you  would  not  wish  me  to  make  the  promise,  if 
you  knew  just  how  it  was." 

':No;  I  shan't  let  you  creep  round  me.  I  want 
your  word  now.  Will  you  promise  ?  " 

"No,  sir!  " 

"  Then  I  discharge  you  from  this  moment !  You 
are  no  longer  my  clerk.  I  command  you  to  leave 
my  premises  immediately." 

Half-astounded  by  these  words,  Clinton  advanced, 
with  an  imploring  look,  towards  Mr.  Gay. 

"  Go  !  "  cried  the  enraged  man,  pointing  to  the 
door  ;  "  go  !  I  care  not  if  I  never  see  you  again." 

Clinton  needed  no  further  command,  and,  vainly 
striving  to  compose  his  outraged  feelings,  he  turned' 
his  steps  towards  the  mansion  that,  for  five  happy 
months,  he  had  called  home.  He  ascended  to  his 
chamber,  unobserved  by  any  of  the  family,  and  hast 
ily  placed  his  clothes  in  his  trunk.  Then  he  hailed 
a  passing  coachman,  and  desired  him  to  carry  it  to 
J 's  Hotel.  Now  he  tried  to  collect  his  disor 
dered  thoughts,  and  arrange  some  plan  of  action. 
For  a  moment  he  was  tempted  to  remain  in  the  house 
until  Mr.  Gay  returned,  as  he  imagined  he  might 


THE   FORTUNES   OF   CLINTON.         '         121 

relent  towards  him  when  his  temper  had  cooled ;  but 
he  felt  too  much  injured  and  outraged  to  harbor  the 
thought  of  suing  for  favor:  and,  even  should  Mr. 
Gay  voluntarily  restore  him  to  his  former  position, 
he  knew  that  both  Sands  and  Jackson  were  his  ene 
mies  ;  and,  such  being  the  fact,  he  felt  little  desire  to 
remaiYi.  "  Yes,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  he  bade  me  go, 
and  I  will  go ;  but  first  I  must  say  good-by  to  Mrs. 
Gay  and  the  young  ladies."  Though  he  tried  to  ap 
pear  calm  and  self-possessed  as  he  entered  the  parlor, 
where  the  ladies  were  seated,  Fannie  instantly  noticed 
his  altered  looks. 

"  Are  you  sick,  Clinton?  "  she  asked,  kindly. 

"  No,  dear  Fannie  ;  I  have  come  to  bid  you  and 
your  mother  and  Miss  Marion  good-by." 

"How  does  that  happen?"  said  Mrs.  Gay.  "I 
hope  you  are  not  going  to  leave  us." 

"Yes,  madam.  I  must  leave  immediately.  I  am 
no  longer  in  your  husband's  employ." 

"0,  you  mustn't  go  off!  "  said  Fannie.  "What 
makes  you  dissatisfied  ?  Something  has  vexed  you, 
I  know,  for  I  see  you  are  angry  now,  though  you 
try  to  speak  calmly." 

"  I  have  no  choice,"  said  Clinton.  "  Your  father  is 
very  angry  with  me,  and  has  discharged  me." 

"  Discharged  you  !  "  cried  Fannie,  incredulously. 

Mrs.  Gay  looked  surprised.  "  You  had  better  stay 
till  Mr.  Gay  returns.  He  is  very  hasty  sometimes, 
and  I  dare  say  you  will  remain  will)  us  yet." 

tc  I  thank  you.  dear  Mrs.  Gay;  but  circumstances 
have  occurred  which  make  it  impossible  for  me  to 
stay.  So  I  must  say  '  good-by'  to  you." 

"  Then  you  are  really  going  ?  "  said  Fannie,  with 
starting  tears. 

"Yes,  I  must,"  said  Clinton,  resolutely.  "  5Tou 
will  think  of  me.  sometimes.  Fannie?  " 


122     •  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

"  Yes,  yes,  very  often." 

"0,  you  Avill  be  back  again  in  less  than  a  week,' 
said  Marion,  cheerfully ;  ' '  father  will  search  Phila 
delphia  through  before  he  'd  go  without  you,  even  if 
he  does  send  you  off  in  a  passion.  Good-by,  Clint !  " 
and  she  gave  him  her  hand,  with  a  pleasant  smile. 
He  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Gay,  and  once  more  with 
Fannie,  and  hastened  away,  before  they  had  time  to 
detain  him  longer. 

"  I  wonder  what  Clinton  has  done  to  anger  father 
so  much  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Gay. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  has  done  anything  wrong," 
said  Fannie,  decidedly;  "and  I  say  it  is  too  bad  in 
papa  to  send  him  away  without  a  minute's  warning  ! " 
The  young  girl  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  to  hide 
her  streaming  tears. 

Marion  looked  at  her  weeping  sister,  while  a  pecu 
liar  smile  played  round  her  lips.  If  she  had  spoken 
her  thoughts  aloud,  she  would  have  said,  "If  they 
were  not  such  mere  children,  I  should  say  it  was  a 
lucky  accident  which  separates  my  little  sis  and  this 
handsome,  black-eyed  boy  so  soon." 


CHAPTER    XII. 


NEW    DEVELOPMENTS. 

WEARIED  and  disheartened,  Clinton  leaned  against 
a  jutting  window,  where  varied  autumn  fruits  were 
temptingly  displayed  to  allure  the  passer-by.  It 
was  a  rare,  golden  September  day,  Avhose  very  bright 
ness  mocked  the  sad  one.  He  took  off  his  hat,  and 
the  soft  breeze  and  glittering  sunbeams  played  with 
his  jetty  locks,  as  he  sighingly  thought  of  the  vexa 
tions  and  disappointments  of  the  past  two  weeks. 
How  many  streets  had  he  traversed  and  retra versed ; 
how  many  curt  replies,  cold  rebuffs,  and  insulting 
denials,  he  had  received;  how  often  had  his  heart 
sunk  with  despondency,  or  throbbed  with  indignation 
and  wounded  feeling,  in  his  vain  search  for  employ 
ment  ! 

Even  the  smallest  merchant  insisted  upon  good 
references;  and  if  poor  Clint  acknowledged  that  he 
had  been  the  clerk  of  the  rich  Amos  Gay,  then  came 
a  long  series  of  questions,  with  the  invariable  conclu 
sion  that  he  would  "  not  suit."  Then  he  sought  for 
other  kinds  of  employment;  and  when  his  small 
stock  of  money  was  nigh  spent  (Mr.  Gay,  in  his 
passion,  had  forgotten  to  pay  him),  his  humble  in 
quiry  was  for  "anything  to  do."  By  chance  jobs  he 
now  and  then  earned  a  few  pennies ;  but  the  finger  of 

(123) 


124  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

fate  seemed  pointing  sternly  at  him,  and  turning  all 
hearts  from  him  in  coldness. 

"  I  will  leave  the  city  immediately,"  he  said  to 
to  himself;  "it  is  of  no  use  for  me  to  stay  here 
longer ;  fate  is  against  me.  I  will  go  to  Oakville,  and 
see  if  all  have  changed  as  have  Josie  and  Mina.  The 
doctor's  last  words  were,  'Clinton,  remember  I  am 
your  true  friend.  In  any  trouble  or  emergency,  do 
not  fear  to  apply  to  me.'  I  will  not  accept  anything 
from  him,  but  his  influence  will  certainly  secure  me  a 
place  where  I  can  obtain  an  honest  livelihood." 

But  Clinton  could  not  put  his  resolution  into  im 
mediate  effect,  as  he  had  not  sufficient  money  to 
carry  him  to  his  former  home.  Disagreeable  as  was 
the  task,  he  must  renew  his  search  for  work,  and 
earn  the  requisite  sum. 

"  Sir.  I  am  very  anxious  to  get  some  work ;  could 
you  employ  me,  even  for  a  few  days  ?  "  he  said  to  a 
gentleman  he  was  passing. 

The  gentleman  stopped  short,  and  stared  at  him  as 
if  something  in  his  appearance  or  his  petition  sur 
prised  him  greatly. 

"  I  am  in  search  of  some  honest  employment," 
Clinton  said,  a  little  abashed  by  the  keen,  questioning 
glance  which  followed  the  first  look  of  wonderment. 

"  0,  you  want  employment,  honest  employment? 
That 's  well.  But  what  do  you  prefer  to  do?  " 

"  I  should  prefer  to  perform  the  duties  of  clerk 
or  secretary ;  but  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  do  any 
thing." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing,  and  who  has  em 
ployed  you  ?  " 

Clinton  hesitated;  then,  remembering  he  had  no 
cause  to  be  ashamed  to  confess  that  he  had  been  dis 
charged  from  Mr.  Gay's  establishment,  he  answered 


NEW   DEVELOPMENTS.  125 

Candidly,  "I- have  been  clerk  in  Mr.  Amos  Gay's 
store  during  the  spring  and  summer  months." 

"  But  you  have  left  him.  and  are  now  seeking  some 
'  honest  employment '?"  said  the  gentleman,  with  a 
tone  of  irony,  and  an  insinuating  smile,  which  brought 
a  flash  to  Clinton's  eye,  and  dyed  his  face  with  crim 
son.  Clinton  looked  up  questioningly  into  the  gentle 
man's  face,  but  he  could  read  nothing  there ;  he  waa 
evidently  playing  with  him.  "  I  see  you  have 
nothing  for  me  to  do,  so  I  will  not  trouble  you 
longer,"  said  the  boy.  with  the  air  of  one  who  does 
not  choose  to  have  his  honor  trifled  with. 

"  Wait,  my  boy,"  cried  the  gentleman,  his  manner 
suddenly  changing,  and  a  genial  smile  breaking  like  a 
sunbeam  over  his  noble  countenance  ;  "  wait  a  mo 
ment.  I  have  really  taken  a  great  liking  to  you,  and 
must  talk  with  you.  I  will  be  serious  now,  for  I  have 
found  out  what  stuff  you  are  made  of  Will  you  ex 
plain  to  me  why  you  left  Mr.  Gay.  Trust  me,  for  I 
am  disposed  to  be  your  friend." 

Clinton  could  not  withstand  his  friendly  manner, 
and  he  briefly  but  explicitly  related  the  circumstances 
occasioning  his  rupture  with  Mr.  Gay. 

The  gentleman  was  charmed  alike  by  the  integrity 
and  modesty  manifest  in  his  simple  narrative,  and 
indignant  because  of  Mr.  Gay's  hasty  and  unjust 
conduct.  Clinton  begged  him  not  to  speak  harshly 
of  his  former  friend  and  patron.  "Though  I  felt 
wronged  by  his  passionate  treatment,"  said  he,  "  his 
previous  kindnesses  to  me  demand  my  gratitude  and 
respect." 

"Well,  well,  my  boy;  glad  to  see  you  thus  dis 
posed  to  remember  favors.  But  I  'm  going  to  tell 
you  something  that  will  surprise  you  a  little,  I  fancy. 
I  was  in  the  store  when  Mr.  Sands  gave  you  your 
orders  for  selling  the  silks ;  I  saw  your  reluctance  to 


126  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

comply  with  his  command,  and  watched  with  great 
interest  all  your  proceedings.  I  read  the  struggles  in 
your  mind,  and  saw  your  triumph  over  temptation. 
I  knew  you  when  you  spoke  to  me,  —  should  have 
known  you  in  France  !  There  was  something  about 
your  face  that  struck  me  at  first ;  and  now,  as  your 
black  eyes  grow  big  with  wonder,  it  seems  as  though 
I  had  kuowjQ  you  before.  Strangely  familiar  those 
eyes,  and  that  firmly-set  mouth  !  '''  continued  the 
gentleman,  as  if  talking  to  himself;  "  who.  who,  does 
he  remind  me  of?"  — 

"  Clint  Forrest !  as  I  live  !  0,  I  've  found  you 
at  last,  you  young  scamp  !  "  cried  Mr.  Gay,  seizing 
Clinton  by  the  shoulder  with  a  hearty  shake.  "  What 
did  you  hide  yourself  for?  Gritty,  were  you?  Well, 
I  can't  blame  you  for  that,  I  suppose,  when  I  've  got 
so  much  of  the  real  grit  myself:  but  come  right 
home  with  me  'before  I  lose  you.  They  Avill  all  be 
glad  to  see  you.  Fannie  has  half  cried  her  eyes  out 
because  you  ran  away." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Gay,  this  is  very  unexpected,"  said 
Clinton.  "  Do  you  really  wish  to  receive  me  again  as 
your  clerk?  " 

"Wish  it!  I  insist  upon  it!  Didn't  I  engage 
you  for  a  year,  and  you  ran  off  without  giving  any 
warning?  But  I'll  forgive  that,"  said  Mr.  Gay, 
with  a  good-natured  laugh,  "and  engage  you  for 
another  year,  dating  from  to-day,  with  this  express 
stipulation,  that,  even  if  I  discharge  you  three  times 
a  week,  in  a  passion,  you  are  to  stay  till  I  tell  you, 
soberly  and  calmly,  to  go." 

"  Before  I  accept  your  conditions,  sir,  I  must  know 
whether  or  not  you  fully  understand  the  cause  of  the 
trouble  between  Mr.  Sands  and  myself?  " 

li  Yes,  dear  Clinton,  "  replied  Mr.  Gay,  dropping 
his  playful  tone.  "After  inquiring  into  the  affair,  I 


NEW   DEVELOPMENTS.  127 

found  that  you  were  in  the  right.  Sands  did  not 
mean  I  should  know  anything  about  the  injured 
goods ;  for  he  was  aware  that  it  was  ngainst  my  prin 
ciples  to  have  any  such  underhanded  work  as  he 
Avished  you  to  engage  in.  He  and  I  have  parted  lots, 
and,  as  I  now  am  sole  proprietor,  I  can't  possibly  get 
along  without  you." 

Clinton's  face  beamed  with  pleasure  as  he  tried  to 
express  his  thanks. 

"Don't  stand  here  stammering,"  laughed  the  kind 
old  merchant;  "come  along,  quick:  I  want  to  show 
you  to  Fannie." 

"  Stay,  sir  "  cried  the  gentleman  to  whom  Clinton 
had  confided  nis  grievances  ;  "I  question  your  right 
to  hurry  this  lad  away  so  unceremoniously.  We  were 
conversing,  and  you  interrupted  us." 

He  presented  his  card,  which  Mr.  Gay  accepted  with 
an  apologetic  bow.  "  Ah,  I  am  happy  to  make  your 
acquaintance.  Though  I  never  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
meeting  with  you  before,  your  name  is  familiar  to  me. 
You  must  excuse  my  interruption,  but  I  had  quite 
given  up  finding  Clinton  Forrest,  and  was  consequent 
ly  much  gratified  to  discover  him." 

"  Clinton  Forrest,"  repeated  the  gentleman,  "  that 
is  an  uncommon  name,  —  Clinton  Forrest !  I  must 
have  a  half  hour's  talk  with  him  in  private.  My 
hotel  is  near ;  we  will  go  there,  and,  after  our  con 
versation,  with  your  permission  I  will  accompany  him 
to  your  house." 

"  Certainly,  sir,  most  happy  to  see  you;  shall  ex 
pect  you  to  remain  to  tea.  Clint,"  he  continued, 
moving  off.  "I  shall  confidently  expect  you  to  make 
no  engagements  with  any  persons  except  myself." 

Clinton's  companion  took  him  by  the  arm,  and 
hurried  him  along  as  though  he  were  a  refractory 
child  ;  thrn  ushered  him,  without  ceremony,  into  the 


128  THE   HA11VEST    OF   LOVE. 

most  luxurious  apartment  of  a  fashionable  hotel. 
"  Sit  down,  Clinton  Forrest,"  he  said  to  the  bewil 
dered  boy,  ' '  and  answer  all  my  questions  without 
reserve,  I  beseech  you.  Who  were  you  named 
after?" 

"My  father,  sir." 

"And  what  was  your  mother's  name, — her  maiden 
name  ?  ' 

"I  only  know  that  it  was  Annie;  for  she  died  at 
my  birth,  and  my  father  died  a  few  days  before." 

"Annie!"  The  questioner's  voice  was  choked; 
and,  pale  with  agitation,  he  placed  his  chair  close  to 
Clinton's,  and  took  his  hand  in  his. 

"  Buf  don't  you  know  her  last  name  ?  " 

"No,  sir;  I  never  could  find  it  out,  and  I  never 
have  seen  a  single  relative  in  all  my  life." 

"  This  is  all  very  singular,"  said  the  gentleman,  in 
a  low,  musing  voice,  while  Clinton's  surprise  gave 
place  to  vague,  half-formed,  yet  delightful  hopes,  — 
"very  strange.  Tell  me  all  you  know  about  your 
parents." 

"I  know  nothing  about  them,  except  what  my 
acquaintances  in  Oakville  (rny  native  place)  have  told 
me  since  I  was  old  enough  to  feel  curiosity  about  the 
matter.  My  parents  went  to  Oakville  about  a  year 
before  I  was  born.  They  were  entire  strangers,  and 
seemed  to  avoid  becoming  acquainted  with  any  of 
their  neighbors,  so  that  no  one  in  the  place  ever 
found  out  where  they  came  from,  or  the  names  of 
any  of  their  friends.  People  said  they  seemed  devoted 
to  each  other,  though  my  mother  was  very  melancholy, 
and  callers  often  found  her  crying.  She  was  so 
reserved  that  some  folks  called  her  proud,  and  others 
said  they  guessed  she  wasn't  'any  too  good.'  But 
I  know  that  was  all  tattle,"  continued  the  boy,  becom 
ing  warm  in  the  defence  of  his  mother,  whom  he  had 


NEW   DEVELOPMENTS.  129 

never  known  ;  "  for  something  in  my  heart  tells  me 
that  she  was  good  and  true.  My  father's  death  was 
a  terrible  blow  to  her.  They  say  she  never  appeared 
rational  after  that." 

"  But  she  did  n't  die  without  speaking  of  any  of  her 
friends,  without  telling  who  she  was?"  eagerly  as^ed 
the  attentive  listener. 

"Yes:  though  the  kind  lady  who  took  care  of  her 
tried  to  make  her  comprehend  that  she  was  leaving 
me,  her  baby,  without  a  protector  or  friend  in  the 
world,  she  only  murmured  something  about  her 
husband  being  an  orphan,  and  that  her  brothers 
would  care  for  the  poor  baby." 

"  Were  there  no  papers  to  be  found,  which  could  give 
any  clue  to  the  whereabouts  of  her  friends?  " 

"  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  there  could  be  found 
no  family  record,  or  letters,  except  a  few  on  busi 
ness,  which  threw  no  light  on  the  mysterious  subject. 
They  had  but  very  little  furniture  or  clothing,  which, 
when  sold,  could  only  pay  the  expenses  of  their  sick 
ness  and  funerals.  I  lived  seven  years  in  the  alms- 
house,  a  neglected,  wretched  child ;  but  at  last  God 
raised  me  up  kind  friends,  who  taught  me  self-respect, 
and  gave  me  the  means  of  attaining  a  respectable 
education.  My  mother  wore  two  rings,  which  the 
lady  who  nursed  her  saved  for  me.  I  always  carry 
them  with  me 'as  precious  mementos  of  my  mother." 

"  Show  them  to  me  !  "  was  the  eager  exclamation. 

Clinton  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  morocco 
case,  which  he  unclasped,  and  took  therefrom  a  plain 
gold  ring,  and  one  set  with  hair  of  three  shades,  "with 
*  the  name  "Annie"  engraved  on  the  inner  side.  The 
gentleman  seized  the  latter,  while  his  face  grew  pallid 
with  contending  emotions.  His  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  the  ring  as  if  in  fascination.  He  mournfully 


130  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

turned  it  in  his  hand,  kissed  it,  and  placed  it  upon  his 
little  finger. 

"It  was  as  I  feared,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  tremulous 
voice.  "  0.  Annie,  you  died  alone,  without  a  friend 
to  hear  your  last  prayer,  —  our  pet  bird,  our  beauti 
ful  one  !  '  Brothers  would  care  for  your  babe '  ?  0, 
how  gladly  would  they  have  cherished  it  had  Provi 
dence  only  permitted !  " 

Tears  streamed  down  his  cheeks ;  his  head  sank 
upon  the  table,  and  his  whole  frame  shook  with  con 
vulsive  sobs.  Mute  with  amazement,  Clinton  gazed 
upon  him,  while  tears  of  compassion  filled  his  eyes. 

"  You  look  wonderingly  upon  me,"  said  the  gentle 
man,  after  a  momentary  indulgence  of  his  emotion. 
"  God  grant  that  you  may  never  shed  such  tears  of 
sorrow.  0,  my  boy,  this  ring  assures  me  without 
doubt  that  you  are  the  son  of  my  only  and  dearly- 
beloved  sister !  I  gave  it  to  her  on  her  eighteenth 
birthday,  with  her  hair,  my  own,  and  our  brother's, 
woven  in  it.  I  little  thought  then  that  it  would  ever 
come  back  to  me  with  such  a  melancholy  tale.  You 
have  never  known  a  mother's  love  or  a  father's  care ; 
have  never  seen  a  relative  in  all  your  life !  Poor 
boy  !  poor  boy !  Come,  my  nephew,  lay  your  head 
upon  my  breast ;  let  me  fold  my  arms  about  you. 
I  will  be  father  and  mother  to  you,  sister  and  brother, 
—  all  that  your  desolate  heart  can  ask  ! ' ' 

With  a  joyful  cry  and  a  tumultuous  burst  cf 
tears,  Clinton  sprang  into  his  uncle's  outstretched 
arms.  He  had  proved  friendship  fickle,  and  now, 
with  a  blissful  feeling  of  confidence  and  security,  he 
pillowed  his  head  upon  the  breast  of  his  new-found 
relative. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

EXPLANATIONS   AND   DISCOVERIES. 

A  LETTER  !  it  has  a  magician-like  power  !  Beneath 
its  seal  lies  an  invisible  spirit,  ready  to  spring  forth 
with  art  to  awaken  any  or  every  emotion  of  which 
the  heart  is  capable.  A  letter  !  now  the  reader's 
eye  dances  with  joy,  and  pleasure  wreathes  the  lip 
with  smiles.  Affection's  flame  burns  brighter  as  the 
glowing  words  daguerreotype  themselves  upon  the 
tablet  of  the  soul.  Anon,  a  stroke  of  wit  calls  forth 
a  mirthful  laugh,  or  a  reminiscence  fills  the  heart 
with  tender  memories.  Perchance  the  tale  it  tells  is 
of  sorrow.  Then  tears  rain  on  the  speaking  paper  ; 
or  the  breast  may  heave  with  slighted  love,  and  swell 
Avith  angry  resentment,  as  words  of  coldness  or  rebuke 
pierce  their  arrows  in  the  soul.  Joy,  sorrow,  love, 
hate,  hope,  fear,  anger,  and  jealousy — each  and  every 
passion  of  the  human  soul  is  subject  to  the  sway  of 
that  little,  mystic  thing  —  a  letter  ! 

Methinks  written  words  coming  from  the  hand  of  a 
beloved  friend  have  greater  weight  than  those  that 
are  spoken  ;  they  assume  a  palpable  form  that  brings 
conviction  to  the  mind.  We  read  the  lines  again  and 
again,  imagining  the  look  and  tones  of  the  writer, 
while  the  subtle,  invisible,  still  existing  chain,  linking 
kindred  minds,  though  mountains,  seas,  and  mighty 
countries  intervene,  is  woven  more  closely  round  the 
heart.  But  to  our  story. 

(131) 


132  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

Elmina  was  very  lonely  after  the  departure  of  her 
two  dear  brothers ;  and,  as  her  father  had  accompanied 
Frank  to  Boston,  she  had  no  one  at  home  to  appreciate 
her  feelings.  During  the  excitement  of  preparation 
she  did  not  realize  how  hard  the  parting  would  be  to 
her  affectionate  nature ;  but  when  the  ;  Good-by '  was 
said,  and  they  were  really  gone,  she  felt  inexpressibly 
lonely,  and  yielded  to  what  she  then  thought  her 
inconsolable  sorrow. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  companionship  of 
the  cheerful,  energetic  Josie  Lee  was  invaluable.  By 
her  judicious  conversation  and  advice,  Elmina  resumed 
ner  former  studies  and  occupations  ;  and  soon  the 
quiet,  placid  smile,  so  peculiar  to  her  lovely  face, 
played  upon  the  features  and  sent  its  healing  influence 
down  into  her  heart.  If  inward  peace  produces  out 
ward  cheerfulness,  it  is  equallytrue  that  placidity  of 
manner  and  determined  cheerfulness,  even  if  assumed, 
will  soften  and  make  more  endurable  the  concealed 
sorrow. 

When  she  received  two  letters, — one  from  her  father, 
telling  all  the  circumstances  of  Frank's  embarkation, 
and  stating  his  own  intention  of  remaining  in  the 
city  several  weeks,  and  the  other  from  Clinton.  —  she 
joyously  sprang  up  the  stairs  into  her  own  room, 
where  she  might  enjoy  their  perusal  undisturbed. 
With  all  her  efforts  at  self-control,  she  could  not 
restrain  the  tears  which  flooded  her  eyes,  or  her 
eager  impatience  to  receive  at  once  the  whole  import 
of  those  welcome  missives. 

"  I  must  answer  Clint's  letter  directly,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  As  he  is  journeying  about.  I  shall  lose  track 
of  him  unless  I  do."  She  seated  herself  at  her  little 
writing-desk,  drew  forth  a  sheet,  and  soon  her  pen  was 
flying  nimbly  over  the  snowy  page,  embodying,  in  fit 
ting  words,  the  warm  outgushings  of  her  heart.  When 


EXPLANATIONS   AND    DISCOVERIES.  133 

she  had  nearly  finished  her  pleasant  task,  her  aunt 
Jane  came  in,  and  seated  herself  near  the  desk.  With 
a  bright  smile,  Elmina  tossed  the  letters  into  her 
aunt's  lap,  saying,  "  I  suppose  you  wish  to  hear  from, 
father  and  Clinton." 

While  Mrs.  Clement  read,  she  now  and  then  paused 
to  look  upon  Elmina' s  animated  countenance,  as  she 
plied  her  pen  more  assiduously  than  before.  "You 
are  writing  to  your  father,  are  you  not?" 

"  No,  aunt ;  I  am  answering  Clinton's  letter,  and 
I  want  to  put  it  into  the  office  to-night,  for  he  may 
leave  Philadelphia  very  soon.  I  shall  write  to  my 
father  to-morrow." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  neglecting  your 
father  in  your  haste  to  correspond  with  this  young 
gentleman,"  said  Mrs.  Clement  with  a  disagreeable 
intonation.  Elmina  made  no  reply,  but  wrote  the 
last  line,  and  affixed  her  name  at  the  end.  "It  is 
a  very  unusual  thing,  and  highly  improper,  in  my 
opinion,"  continued  her  aunt,  in  the  cautious  manner 
which  some  persons  assume  when  they  have  a  hidden 
object  to  gain,  "for  a  boy  and  girl  of  your  ages  to 
hold  a  correspondence.  I  am  sure  your  father  would 
not  approve  of  it." 

Elmina  looked  up  with  innocent  surprise,  exclaim 
ing.  "Where  can  be  the  impropriety,  aunt  Jane? 
Clint  is  just  like  a  brother  to  me  :  almost  as  dear  as 
my  own  Frank  !  " 

"  Of  course,  child,  you  can't  see  any  impropriety 
in  it.  Girls  never  do  in  any  of  the  silly  and  improper 
notions  they  get  into  their  heads.  Clint  is  n't  your 
brother,  nor  any  relation  at  all ;  so  your  calling  him 
brother  don't  alter  the  matter  in  the  least." 

Though  unused  to  question  the  opinions  of  her 
superiors,  Elmina  could  not  blindly  yield  her  will  to 
what  she  felt  to  be  unsound  reasoning.  She  said 


134  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

gently,  "  Don't  you  remember,  aunt,  that  father  often 
called  Clint  his  son,  and  was  pleased  to  have  Frank 
and  me  consider  him  as  a  brother  ?  " 

"0,  yes,"  interrupted  her  aunt,  "I  remember 
that  he  was  petted  and  praised  till  he  fancied  himself 
equal  to  the  best  in  the  house ;  and  it  is  none  of  my 
affair,  of  course,  whether  you  write  to  him  or  not.  I 
have  given  my  opinion,  however ;  so  my  conscience 
will  be  clear  if  you  do  make  yourself  ridiculous." 

The  young  girl  revolved  the  question  in  her  mind ; 
there  seemed  but  one  conclusion,  — that  it  would  be  ex 
tremely  unkind  to  neglect  the  affectionate  epistle  she 
had  just  received.  As  she  folded  and  directed  her 
letter,  she  said,  "  Please  excuse  me,  aunt  Jane,  if  I 
do  not  take  up  with  your  advice.  I  cannot  bear  to 
grieve  Clinton  by  silence  and  neglect." 

She  expected  Mrs.  Clement  would  be  angry  with 
her,  and  was  agreeably  surprised,  when  she  rose,  say 
ing,  quietly,  "  Well,  I  dare  say  'twill  do  no  harm, 
for  the  boy  will  find  new  friends,  and  soon  forget  all 
the  favors  he  has  received  in  this  house.  It  is  late 
for  you  to  go  out,  so  I  will  take  your  letter  and  send 
James  with  it  to  the  office." 

Elmina  thanked  her,  and,  when  left  alone,  fell  to 
wondering  if  it  were  possible  that  Clint  could  ever 
forget  her.  She  judged  him  by  her  own  true  heart, 
and  answered  the  mental  question  with  a  decided. 
"No!" 

One  day,  when  she  was  ill  with  a  nervous  head 
ache,  James  brought  Clinton's  second  letter.  It 
affectionately  chided  her  for  not  replying  to  his 
previous  epistle,  and  ended  with  an  earnest  petition 
for  her  to  write  immediately.  The  unsuspecting  girl 
dreamed  of  no  fraud,  and,  though  surprised  and  an 
noyed  that  her  letter  had  been  miscarried,  she  had 
not  a  thought  of  blaming  any  one.  She  rose  from 


EXPLANATIONS    AND    DISCOVERIES.  135 

her  pillow,  and  wrote  a  few  words,  assuring  Clinton 
of  her  unaltered  friendship  and  regard,  and  apologized 
for  her  short  note  on  account  of  her  headache.  She 
then  called  her  cousin,  and  asked  him  to  take  it  to 
the  post-office.  James,  who  really  loved  Elmina, 
willingly  accepted  the  little  commission.  As  he 
passed  his  mother's  room,  she  called  him  in,  and,  after 
closing  the  door,  inquired  in  a  low  voice  if  Elmina 
had  had  not  given  him  a  letter  for  Clinton. 

"You  give  it  to  me,  James,"  she  said,  after  he 
had  answered  in  the  affirmative ;  ' '  give  it  to  me  :  you 
needn't  carry  it." 

"Why,  mother,  I  promised  Mina  that  I  would ; 
and  she  will  think  it  very  strange  if  I  do  not." 

"Leave  the  letter  with  me,  and  go  down  the 
street  so  that  she  will  have  no  suspicions.  If  she 
asks  you  about  it,  tell  her  you  gave  it  to  the  post 
master." 

James  looked  at  his  mother  inquiringly.  This  was 
not  the  first  lesson  in  deception  which  she  had  taught 
him,  but  he  could  not  understand  her  motive  in  this 
instance. 

"I  will  explain  my  plan  to  you,  James,  or  you 
will  defeat  my  object  by  some  blunder.  I  am  de 
termined  to  break  off  all  communication  between  your 
uncle's  family  and  Clint  Forrest.  I  burned  Mina's 
first  letter,  and,  if  I  take  care  of  this,  I  don't  think 
Clint  will  trouble  us  with  any  more  letters ;  for  you 
know  he  is  sensitive  and  high-spirited.  If  we  don't 
hear  from  him,  your  uncle  will  feel  himself  neglected, 
and  say  the  boy  is  ungrateful.  That  is  just  what  I 
want ;  for  the  doctor  thinks  so  much  of  him  now, 
that  like  as  not  he  will  give  him  some  of  his  proper 
ty,  and  I  think  he  has  spent  enough  already  on  that 
beggar-boy.  Just  get  him  out  of  hearing,  and  you 
will  have  a  better  chance  to  gain  the  doctor's  favor. 


136  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

You  see  that  a  mother  is  always  ready  to  cb  anything 
to  advance  the  interests  of  her  children,  and  in  this 
case  you  will  be  glad  to  help  me.  for  we  have  neither 
of  us  a  very  particular  affection  for  Clint." 

As  may  be  supposed,  James  made  no  opposition  to 
the  scheme  of  his  unprincipled  mother,  and  left  the 
letter  with  her,  though  he  informed  his  cousin,  at 
night,  that  he  had  given  it  to  the  postmaster,  and  had 
no  doubt  it  would  go  safely.  Thus  was  Elmina.  as 
well  as  Clinton,  made  the  victim  of  a  selfish,  jealous 
woman. 

When  the  doctor  returned  from  the  city,  one  of  his 
first  inquiries  was  for  his  young  protege.  He  read 
the  letters  his  daughter  had  received  with  much  pleas 
ure,  and  expressed  impatience  to  hear  from  him 
again,  as  he  wished  to  write  to  him  himself.  Week 
after  week  passed  away,  and  they  wondered,  and 
made  all  possible  and  impossible  conjectures  as  to  why 
Clinton  did  not  write.  They  heard  regularly  from 
Frank,  who  wrote  in  fine  spirits ;  but  still  the  good 
doctor  felt  disappointed  and  dissatisfied,  and  Elmina 
extremely  grieved,  at  the  neglect  of  one  whom  they 
had  treated  with  so  much  affection  and  consideration. 
Mrs.  Clement  often  expatiated  upon  Clinton's  ap 
parent  ingratitude,  and  assured  her  brother-in-law 
that  he  might  always  expect  to  be  thus  rewarded  for 
conferring  favors  on  those  out  of  his  own  family. 

When  Clinton's  letter  to  Josephine  Lee  reached  its 
destination  it  was  in  vacation  time,  and  Josie  was  ab 
sent  on  a  journey  ;  hence  the  reason  of  its  being 
unanswered.  This  train  of  circumstances  severed 
Clinton  for  many  years  from  the  place  of  his  nativity 
and  the  friends  of  his  childhood. 

About  a  year  after  the  incidents  above  recorded, 
Elmina  discovered,  by  mere  accident,  the  cause  of  the 


EXPLANATIONS   AND    DISCOVERIES.  137 

before  inexplicable  silence  of  Clinton.  One  day,  in 
altering  the  arrangement  of  her  drawers,  Mrs.  Clem 
ent  threw  a  quantity  of  old  papers  upon  the  carpet, 
and  desired  Elmina  to  take  them  away.  She  gath 
ered  them  up  in  her  apron,  but  let  them  suddenly 
drop  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  as  she  caught 
sight  of  a  sealed  letter.  Mrs.  Clement  endeavored  to 
snatch  it  away,  with  a  look  of  apprehension ;  but  El- 
rnina  held  it  firmly.  It  was  directed  to  ' :  Clinton  For 
rest,  Baltimore."  For  a  moment  the  young  girl  was 
motionless  with  surprise,  and  then  unsealed  the  letter. 
There  could  be  no  mistake ;  it  was  the  second  letter 
that  she  wrote  to  her  dear,  wandering  brother. 

"What  is  it,  child,  that  strikes  you  so?"  said 
Mrs.  Clement,  with  feigned  composure. 

"Why,  'tis  one  of  the  letters  I  wrote  to  Clint; 
how  could  it  possibly  get  there?" 

The  miserable  woman  tried  to  laugh  it  off.  "  It  is 
rather  strange,  but  probably  it  got  into  my  drawer  by 
accident." 

"  By  accident !  "  A  shameful  suspicion  rose  in 
Elmina's  mind,  and  she  spoke  with  unusual  vehe 
mence.  "  Aunt  Jane,  how  could  this  letter  get  into 
your  drawer  by  accident,  when  James  assured  me 
that  he  delivered  it  safe  to  the  postmaster?  I  can't 
understand  it." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  accuse  me  of  knowing  anything 
about  it." 

"  I  don't  accuse  any  one,  aunt ;  but  I  must  have 
an  explanation,  for  I  know  it  could  n't  all  happen  by 
accident." 

"  Must  have  an  explanation  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Clement, 
losing  all  self-control.  "You  demand  it,  do  you? 
Well,  then,  listen,  and  much  good  may  it  do  you.  I 
took  that  letter  away  from  James,  and  threw  it  into 


138  THE  HARVEST   OP  LOVE. 

my  drawer.  I  was  a  fool  for  not  burning  it,  and  then 
it  would  never  have  been  discovered." 

Elmina  stood  transfixed  with  astonishment. 

"  Don't  look  at  me  in  that  way,  child!  I  say  I 
wish  I  had  burned  this,  as  I  did  the  other  !  You 
little  thought  I  could  punish  you  so  handsomely  for 
scorning  my  advice." 

She  clasped  her  hands  upon  her  heaving  breast. 
Anger,  scorn,  withering  contempt,  gleamed  from  those 
eyes,  usually  emitting  so  tender  a  light.  She  could 
not  speak,  but  her  look  was  more  expressive  than 
words,  even  than  the  strongest  words  of  passion  and 
reproach. 

Her  aunt  was  almost  beside  herself.  "Elmina 
Clement,"  she  screamed,  "  I  know  now  that  all  your 
pretended  sweetness  and  gentleness  is  mere  sham,  for 
you  look  like  a  perfect  fury  !  Are  you  speechless ! 
If  so,  leave  my  presence,  for  I  will  not  be  looked 
through  and  through  by  such  a  minx." 

Without  a  word,  and  with  the  bearing  of  a  princess, 
Elmina  left  the  chamber  and  entered  her  own  apart 
ment.  Here  the  unnatural  tension  of  the  nerves 
gave  way;  her  lip  quivered,  and  her  heart  heaved 
wildly.  Resentment  gave  place  to  grief,  and  she 
wept  bitterly.  "  0,  dear  Clint,"  she  murmured, 
"how  neglectful,  how  unkind,  you  must  think  me  ! 
Poor,  poor  boy,  while  I  was  blaming  you  unjustly, 
you  were  wondering  and  grieving  that  Mina  could 
treat  you  so  ill." 

Soon  her  tears  ceased  to  flow,  and  she  thought  of 
her  aunt's  wicked  conduct,  which,  to  her  pure,  truth 
ful  mind,  assumed  the  darkest  hue.  She  had  tried  to 
pjave  her :  she  had  daily  prayed  for  meekness  and 
patience :  but  now  her  heart  swelled  with  a  bitterness 
that  had  ever  before  been  a  stranger  to  her  gentle 
breast.  The  angel  in  her  heart,  called  conscience, 


EXPLANATIONS  AND    DISCOVERIES.  139 

whispered  words  of  admonition.  She  fell  upon  her 
knees  hy  the  bedside,  and  prayed  for  the  spirit  of 
love  and  forgiveness.  With  tears  and  sobs,  she  called 
upon  her  sainted  mother  to  help  and  bless  her.  Her 
prayer  seemed  answered,  for  the  quick  sobs  gradually 
subsided,  and,  at  last,  she  arose  from  her  knees,  with 
a  face  calm  as  the  summer  sky.  A  gentle  tranquillity 
sat  upon  her  brow,  and  softened  to  indescribable  sweet 
ness  the  expression  of  sorrow  around  her  mouth. 
She  opened  her  Bible,  her  mother's  Bible,  and  read. 
The  holy  words  were,  truly,  to  her  wounded  spirits. 
like  "  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver." 

The  door  was  opened,  and  the  kind-hearted  Ann 
stepped  in.  Elmina  turned  her  transparent  face 
towards  her,  and  smiled  a  welcome.  "Bless  me  !  " 
exclaimed  the  girl,  with  a  look  of  affectionate  admi 
ration,  ' '  how  like  an  angel  you  do  look  !•  Any  way, 
you  look  like  the  only  angel  I  ever  saw,  your  mother. 
She  was  always  an  angel  —  dear,  sweet  lady  !  I 
did  n't  expect  to  find  you  sitting  here  so  calmly,  con 
sidering  with  what  an  '  air  '  you  came  in,  an  hour 
ago." 

"  It  would  be  very  dreadful  for  me  to  feel  as  I  did 
then,  for  a  whole  hour,"  said  Elmina. 

"I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Ann;  "when  I  am 
abused,  it  does  me  good  to  rave  about  it.  O,  Mina. 
if  you  only  knew  how  I  hate  that  woman !  I  never 
have  called  her  Mrs.  Clement,  and  never  will.  I  've 
called  your  dear,  blessed  mother  so  too  many  times 
to  give  the  name  to  such  a  disgraceful  woman.  I 
was  dusting  the  shelves  in  the  closet,  and  heard  what 
she  said,  and  I  saw  you.  Mina.  O,  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  how  handsome  you  looked,  with  your 
eyes  flashing  so,  and  your  face  so  full  of  scorn  !  You 
would  n't  have  known  yourself,  though,  but  I  love 


140  THE   UARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

you  better  for  it ;  it  shows  that  yon  have  too  mucli 
spirit  to  be  always  trampled  under  foot." 

"  Don't  try  to  make  me  better  pleased  with  myself, 
because  I  was  so  very  angry,"  said  Elmina,  seriously. 
"  Of  course,  no  one  could  help  feeling  indignant  at 
such  wicked  conduct;  but  I  was  wrong  to  get  into 
such  a  passion." 

"  No,  no.  I  shan't  let  you  blame  yourself,  when 
you  have  borne  so  much,  and  so  long  with  such  sweet 
ness  and  patience.  I  have  wondered  how  you  could 
do  it,  many  a  time." 

"  Ah,  Ann,  you  forget  how  often  I  am  irritated  by 
aunt's  trying  ways.  Sometimes  I  despair  of  ever 
doing  as  my  mother  would  have  me.  I  can't  always 
be  patient." 

The  kind-hearted  but  undisciplined  girl  looked  at 
Elmina  as  if  she  loved  and  admired  her,  but  could 
not  quite  understand  her.  £;  Well,  my  dear,"  she 
said,  ':  I  guess  good  will  come  out  of  this  trouble,  for 
your  father  will  be  terrible  angry.  I  don't  think  he 
will  let  your  aunt  Jane,  as  you  call  her  (I  :d  never 
call  her  aunt,  though),  stay  another  day  under  his 
roof." 

Elmina's  countenance  changed.  "  I  have  not 
thought  of  that.  Papa  is  most  always  ready  to  ex 
cuse  people's  faults;  but  anything  like  this  which 
aunt  has  done  I  know  he  would  not  overlook." 

"I  am  so  glad!  "  cried  Ann.  "  She  will  surely 
have  to  go  away.  0,  I  will  keep  the  house  just  like 
a  new  pin,  and  you  will  make  such  a  darling  little 
mistress  !  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  ought  not  to  tell  i»y  father,'7 
Elmina  said,  thoughtfully.  "  It  would  be  such  a  dis 
grace  to  aunt,  to  be  turned  out  of  the  house ;  and 
then,  you  know,  she  'd  have  to  work  very  hard  to  earn 


EXPLANATIONS   AND    DISCOVERIES.  141 

her  own  living.  We  must  try  and  bear  with  her 
longer." 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  does  have  to  earn  her  own 
living.  I  should  be  glad  if  she  was  obliged  to  go  out 
washing  !  " 

"  Now,  Ann,  don't  talk  so,"  said  Elmina.  persua 
sively.  "  I  must  think  about  it ;  and  don't.  I  beg  of 
you,  tell  the  affair  to  any  one,  at  present.  Please  gc 
away  now,  and,  if  you  love  me,  you  will  be  silent  on 
the  subject." 

"  If  I  love  you?  You  know  I  do,  Elmina,"  said 
Ann,  kissing  the  fair,  upturned  brow;  "so  I  will 
go  about  my  work,  and  hold  my  peace." 

When  Mrs.  Clement's  passion  had  a  little  subsided, 
she  became  alarmed  for  the  consequences  of  her  un 
guarded  confession.  She  was  fully  aware  that  the 
doctor  would  not  tolerate  her  longer  in  his  family, 
when  informed  of  the  unworthy  part  she  had  played. 
She  concluded  to  unbend  her  haughty  temper,  and 
conciliate  her  injured  niece,  if  possible,  so  that  she 
might  retain  her  pleasant  and  easy  home.  With  a 
face  wreathed  in  counterfeit  smiles,  and  her  voice 
tuned  to  its  softest  cadence,  she  sought  Elmina,  who 
had  already  generously  determined  to  spare  her  from 
the  anger  of  the  doctor. 

"I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  harsh  words,  dear 
Elmina,  for  you  know  that  I  am  naturally  hasty." 

Elmina  bowed  her  reply.  There  was  neither 
haughtiness  nor  anger  in  her  manner,  but  a  reserved 
dignity,  as  though  the  two  had  suddenly  changed 
places,  and  the  conscious  superiority  of  virtue  had 
made  an  impassable  gulf  between  them. 

Mrs.  Clement  was  secretly  irritated,  still  she  spoke 
in  the  same  bland  tone.  "  It  was  regard  for  you, 
child,  that  induced  me  to  destroy  your  letters.  I 
thought  it  was  improper  for  you  to  hold  a  correspond- 


142  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

ence  with  one  of  the  other  sex ;  and,  if  I  mistook 
my  duty,  I  hope  you  will  believe  that  my  motive  was 
good." 

"I  believe  that  I  fully  appreciate  your  motive." 

Mrs.  Clement  looked  puzzled.  She  was  entirely 
unprepared  for  such  a  dignified  reception,  and  these 
words  of  irony  made  her  sit  very  uncomfortably. 
She  suddenly  changed  her  tactics,  and  appealed  to 
the  compassion  of  her  young  companion. 

"  Elmina,  I  am  a  poor  widow,  without  a  friend  to 
help  me,  except  your  father,  and,  if  he  should  set  me 
adrift  on  the  world,  I  know  not  what  would  become 
of  me.  If  you  should  tell  him  your  story,  I  fear  he 
will  be  very  angry  with  me." 

"He  would  be,  undoubtedly.  I  don't  think  he 
would  retain  you  in  the  family  a  day  longer." 

"Then  you  will  tell  him?'-'  cried  Mrs.  Clement, 
resorting  to  her  handkerchief.  "0.  dear  !  how  can 
you  be  so  cruel?  What  will  become  of  me  and  my 
poor,  fatherless  boy  ?  0,  that  I  had  never  come  here, 
to  be  sent  away  in  disgrace,  and  to  starve  !  " 

Elmina  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  tragic  air  of 
her  aunt.  "You  distress  yourself  unnecessarily." 
she  said;  "I  had  resolved,  before  you  came  in,  not 
to  tell  my  father  anything  about  it,  unless  it  became 
my  duty  to  do  so  in  Clinton's  defence,  and  thus  save 
your  wicked  conduct  from  exposure." 

She  winced  at  this  bold  speech,  but  the  promise  it 
contained  made  it  endurable.  "Then  you  promise 
not  to  tell  him,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "  You  will  keep 
your  word?  " 

"I  give  you  my  word,"  said  Elmina,  in  a  meaning 
tone,  "  and  you  can  trust  me." 

Elmina  rose,  as  though  she  wished  to  put  an  end 
to  the  interview.  Her  aunt  looked  upon  her  with  in 
voluntary  respect.  Though  her  form  was  girlish,  it 


EXPLANATIONS   AND    DISCOVERIES.  143 

enshrined  a  woman's  heart  and  mind.  Mrs.  Clement 
felt  this,  and  never  addressed  her  as  "  child"  again. 
Completely  awed  and  humbled  in  the  presence  of  her 
whom  she  had  tried  to  govern  and  bend  to  her  own 
will,  she  hurried  away,  thanking  her  stars  that,  f?r  a 
time,  at  least,  shf  was  to  be  saved  from  enduring  the 
just  penalty  of  her  sin. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

SORROW.  —  NEW   PLANS. 

YEARS  have  come  and  gone,  bringing  sad  changes 
to  our  friends  in  Oakville.  Dr.  Clement's  mansion 
wears  a  lonely  aspect.  The  blinds  are  closed;  the 
garden  walks  unswept,  and  the  luxuriant  vines  un 
trained.  No  footstep  echoes  through  the  deserted 
rooms,  no  voices  break  the  strange  stillness  there. 
He  who  was  once  owner  of  the  place,  has  passed 
over  the  threshold,  never  to  return,  and  his  sorrowing 
children  have  left  their  desolate  home  for  a  season. 

But  three  months  ago  Dr.  Clement  bade  his  daugh 
ter  an  affectionate  adieu,  as  he  left  home  for  Charles 
ton,  on  business.  Ah,  little  thought  they  it  Avas  the 
last  farewell !  The  steamer  in  which  he  sailed  was 
burned,  and  Dr.  Clement  was  among  the  lost. 

Frank  Clement,  who  was  at  that  time  in  Boston 
practising  medicine  with  a  distinguished  physician, 
immediately  went  to  Elmina,  to  weep  Avith  her,  and 
comfort  her  with  brotherly  love. 

Dr.  Clement  was  loved  and  esteemed  by  all  about 
him,  and  the  intelligence  of  his  sudden  death  sent  a 
thrill  of  grief  and  horror  through  the  community. 
The  most  respectful  and  delicate  attentions  were  show 
ered  upon  the  bereaved  son  and  daughter,  and  often 
repeated  was  the  kindly  inquiry,  "  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you?"  Alas,  there  was  nothing  to  be  done! 
This  fact  added  weight  to  their  anguish.  They  could 

(144) 


SORROW  —  NEW    PLANS.  145 

oot  look  upon  the  still  form  of  their  departed  father ; 
they  could  not  lay  his  loved  remains  beside  the  sacred 
dust  of  their  mother ;  no  flowers  could  they  plant 
above  his  resting-place,  for  he  slept  beneath  the  ocean 
wave ! 

They  walked  about  the  grounds  which  his  taste  had 
beautified  ;  they  gazed  upon  the  trees  he  had  planted, 
upon  the  pretty  arbors  and  trellises  his  hands  had 
made ;  and  felt,  with  breaking  hearts,  that  his  loved 
presence  never  more  would  make  glad  the  spot. 

Mrs.  James  Clement  had  continued  to  be  a  member 
of  the  family,  and  her  son,  though  always  talking  of 
choosing  a  profession,  still  idled  away  his  time,  freely 
spending  the  money  of  his  indulgent  uncle.  Now 
the  scene  was  changed.  Mrs.  Clement  was  really 
shocked  at  the  death  of  her  brother-in-law,  and,  for  a 
few  days,  appeared  inconsolable.  But  when  she 
learned  that  he  had  left  his  property  in  a  bad  state, 
and  that,  when  all  debts  were  settled,  only  the  house 
and  adjoining  grounds  would  remain  to  the  heirs,  she 
speedily  laid  aside  her  grief,  and  accepted  proposals 
of  marriage  from  a  rich  old  miser.  Mr.  Wells  was  a 
selfish,  ignorant  old  man,  who  had  spent  his  life  in 
hoarding  wealth  ;  and  only  for  his  golden  charms  did 
Mrs.  Clement  marry  him. 

A  few  weeks  before  Frank  returned  to  his  profes 
sional  duties  in  Boston,  Elmina  declared  her  intention 
of  teaching  school.  Frank  strongly  objected  to  such 
a  plan,  saying  that  he  should  esteem  it  a  privilege  to 
provide  for  all  her  wants. 

"But  you  are  young,"  persisted  Elmina,  "and 
probably  can  earn  only  enough  for  yourself,  for  sev 
eral  years  to  come.  I  am  determined  to  do  some 
thing  for  my  own  support,  and  I  think  I  should  like 
teaching  very  much." 

"  Indeed,  Elmina,  I  shall  not  consent  to  any  such 
10 


146  THE   HARVEST  OP  LOVE. 

thing,"  said  Frank,  "while  I  have  health  my  dear 
and  only  sister  shall  not  wear  out  her  life  in  teaching 
school.  It  is  harder  work  than  you  think  for,  and 
you  are  not  very  strong." 

"You  make  me  out  a  useless  thing,  Frank.  Now 
let  me  reason  with  you." 

"  Nay.  Mina,  let  me  reason  with  you,"  said  Frank, 
drawing  a  letter  from  his  pocket.  "  Here  is  a  letter 
from  aunt  Lucy  Lincoln,  which  may  influence  you  a 
little." 

Elmina  read  the  affectionate  epistle  of-  her  aunt 
with  glistening  eyes.  Mrs.  Lincoln  was  the  half- 
sister  of  Dr.  Clement,  and  twenty  years  his  junior. 
She  "had  not  visited  Oakville  since  she  was  a  young 
girl,  and  consequently  was  a  stranger  to  her  brother's 
family.  She  expreased  the  kindest  sympathy  for  the 
grief  of  her  nephew  and  niece,  and  spoke  with  regret 
of  the  very  limited  intercourse  which  had  existed 
between  her  deceased  brother  and  herself.  She 
begged  Elmina  to  come  to  her,  and  make  her  house 
her  home.  She  needed  "a  companion,  a  younger 
•sister;  "  and  her  husband  joined  in  her  earnest  re 
quest.  There  was  sincerity  breathing  through  the 
whole  of  the  epistle,  and  the  brother  and  sister  felt 
that  every  word  was  from  the  heart. 

"I  know  I  shall  love  aunt  Lucy,"  said  Elmina, 
smiling  through  her  tears ;  "  I  know  I  shall  love  her. 
She 'seems  to  possess  as  kindly  a  heart  as  did  our 
father." 

"Yes,"  said  Frank.  "I  like  her  very  much,  as 
she  appears  in  her  letter.  There  is  a  girlish  simplicity 
about  it  that  makes  me  think  her  heart  is  fresh  and 
true ;  though  I  suppose  her  husband  is  very  wealthy, 
and  she  a  fashionable  lady.  Then  how  kind  her 
invitation  for  you  to  come  and  be  her  '  companion  and 
younger  sister,' !  " 


SORROAV.  —  NEW    PLANS.  147 

"  But  I  cannot  accept  of  the  invitation  unless  she 
permits  me  to  teach  her  children,  or  do  something 
which  will  take  away  all  feelings  of  dependence." 

"That's  right,  Elmina:  I  am  glad  you  are  so 
independent.  I  should  like  to  have  you  teach  our 
little  cousins  ;  for  I  have  no  fear  that  you  would  be 
called  upon  to  exert  yourself  beyond  your  strength 
in  the  house  of  our  father's  sister.  You  had  better 
write  to  her  now,  telling  her  that  you  will  visit  her, 
at  least,  and  express  the  conditions  upon  which  you 
will  become  a  member  of  her  .family." 

An  extract  from  Mrs.  Lincoln's  reply  will  show 
how  Elmina's  communication  was  received  bjf .  her 
New  York  friends. 

"  Though  I  am  sorry  that  you  will  not  accept 
our  'hospitality,'  as  you  term  it,  without  the  con 
ditions  you  mention,  still  I  love  you  for  the  inde 
pendent  spirit  you  manifest.  George  (he  is  my 
husband) .  was  delighted  with  your  letter,  and  says 
that,  if  you  wish  to  teach  our  children,  he  should 
entrust  them  to  you  with  perfect  confidence.  Helen 
and  Grace  say :  '  Do  let  our  cousin  teach  us,  for 
we  are  tired  of  cross  old  governesses.'  Grace 
and  Bertie,  my  little  twins,  have  picked  out  the 
pleasantest  apartment  in  the  house  for  cousin  El 
mina.  Don't  lament  the  loss  of  your  fortune,  for 
we  have  enough  for  ourselves  and  you  too." 

Elmina  was  now  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  the 
promise  of  her  childhood  was  more  than  fulfilled.  In 
her  character  was  united  the  cheerful  energy  o^'fier 
father  with  the  sweet  Christian  temper  which*  had 
made  her  mother's  life  so  beautiful.  Though  death 
had  long  divided  them,  the  influence  of  the  mother 
over  her  child  had  been  wonderful,  for  Elmina  had 
never  forgotten  her  precepts  or  example. 


148  THE    11 A  It  VEST  OF   LOVE. 

0,  who  can  express  the  worth  of  a  true  Christian 
mother  ?  Living  or  dying,  her  influence  is  most 
precious.  She  rears  her  monument  in  the  characters 
of  her  sons  and  daughters,  and  her  memorial  is  written 
on  the  tablets  of  loving  hearts ! 


CHAPTER    XV. 

NEW   FRIENDS   AND   A   NEW   HOME. 

BEFORE  leaving  Oakville,  Elmina  promised  Dora 
May  that  she  would  write  her  long  letters,  in  the 
form  of  a  diary,  in  order  to  lessen  the  loneliness  of 
separation.  The  first  of  these  letters  continue  our 
story  so  naturally,  that  we  copy  from  them,  prefer 
ring  their  conversational  style  to  the  common  mode 
of  story-telling. 

"NEW  YORK,  Sept.  5,  18—. 

"My  DEAREST  DORA:  Though  scarcely  rested 
from  the  fatigue  of  my  journey,  I  cannot  let  another 
night  pass  over  my  head  without  writing  to  you. 
With  Frank  for  my  escort,  you  will  readily  believe 
me  when  I  tell  you  thai  I  had  a  very  pleasant  jour 
ney,  which  was  happily  free  from  all  disaster. 

"We  found  uncle  George  Lincoln  at  the  landing 
with  his  carriage.  He  received  us  with  cordiality; 
and,  while  we  were  waiting  for  the  crowd  to  disperse, 
I  had  leisure  to  study  his  personal  appearance.  The 
survey  was  very  gratifying  to  me,  and  I  felt  acquainted 
with  him  from  the  moment  he  took  my  hand  in  his. 
His  features  are  quite  regular  and  pleasing,  and  it  is 
only  his  projecting  brows  and  deep-set  eyes  that  save 
him  from  the  charge  of  effeminacy.  His  abundant 
brown  hair  looked  as  if  he  were  too  busy  to  spend 
much  time  upon  its  cultivation,  and  his  dress,  though 
foe  in  texture,  was  somewhat  negligent ;  still  his 

<149) 


150  THE  HARVEST  OF  LOVE. 

bearing  was  so  easy  and  courteous  that  I  instinctively 
pronounced  him  a  true  gentleman. 

"  The  carriage  drew  up  before  a  lordly  mansion, 
and  uncle  ushered  us  in  without  ceremony.  The 
drawing-room  was  racant,  but  he  requested  us  to  be 
seated,  and  sent  a  servant-girl  in  search  of  her 
mistress. 

"  Scarce  three  minutes  had  elapsed  when  aunt 
Lucy  came  tripping  down  stairs  with  an  eagerness 
that  was  almost  childish,  but  very  charming  in  her. 
She  shook  hands  with  Frank,  and  then  flew  to  me, 
and  embraced  me  most  affectionately.  She  called  a 
servant  to  remove  my  bonnet  and  cape,  and  then 
insisted  upon  doing  everything  for  me  herself.  All 
this  time  she  chatted  to  me  with  great  vivacity,  and 
in  the  sweetest  voice  in  the  world.  She  had  a  white 
muslin  wrapper;  her  shining  hair  had  been  hastily 
drawn  into  a  knot  and  fastened  with  a  gold  pinr 
while  half  a  dozen  stray  tresses  danced  like  threaded 
sunlight  over  her  shoulders-;  and,  v/hen  she  stepped 
away  from  me.  I  perceived  that  one  foot  was  encased 
in  a  congress  boot,  and  the  other  in  a  white  slipper. 

"  Her  husband  looked  upon  her  with  a  tender, 
but  roguish,  smile,  and  playfully  remarked  upon  the 
strangeness  of  her  attire.  She  blushed  slightly  as  she 
looked  down  upon  her  feet,  and  passed  one  hand  over 
her  hair,  saying,  '  Ah  !  you  must  excuse  me ;  I 
really  didn't  expect  you  for  an  hour  yet,  and  I  had 
such  a  delightful  story  that  I  delayed  dressing  too 
long.  Maggie  had  just  taken  down  my  hair  when 
you  sent  for  me,  and  of  course  I  could  n'  t  keep  the 
dear  children  of  my  brother  waiting  while  I  com 
pleted  my  toilet;  so  I  twisted  up  my  hair,  slipped 
on  the  first  shoes  I  could  find,  and  hastened  to 
welcome  them.'  I  expressed  my  pleasure  in  her 
unaffected  cordiality.  Stve  smiled,  and,  glancing 


NEW  FRIENDS   AND   A   NEW   HOME.  151 

bewitchingly  backward  to  her  husband,  excused  her 
self,  and  glided  away. 

"'Ah!'  thought  I,  'here  is  a  "child-wife"  in 
real  life,'  as  charming  as  Dickens'  Dora,  though  with 
more  character,  and  not  a  bit  more  lovely  than  the 
dear  Dora  to  whom  I  am  writing. 

"Am  I  too  exuberant,  too  minute  in  my  descrip 
tion  ?  I  hope  I  do  not  weary  you ;  for  I  wish  you 
to  become  acquainted  with  my  relatives  here,  as  fast 
as  I  do,  by  my  pen-and-ink  introduction.  I  was  then 
shown  into  my  apartment  by  a  neat  little  maid,  where 
I  exchanged  my  travel-soiled  garments  for  those  more 
suitable  to  the  parlor. 

"  After  I  had  finished  my  toilet  I  returned  to  the 
drawing-room.  Aunt  Lucy  was  there  before  me, 
dressed  with  such  elegance  and  taste  as  assured  me 
that  she  was  far  from  being  indifferent  to  the  adorn 
ments  of  dress.  Uncle  Lincoln  and  Frank  were 
engaged  in  a  pleasant  conversation,  and  aunt  Lucy 
half-reclined  upon  a  sofa.  There  was  an  air  of 
languor  in  her  attitude,  which  I  fancied  was  the  re 
action  of  her  former  enthusiasm.  She  pointed  to  a  vo 
luptuously-cushioned  chair,  apologizing  for  not  rising, 
as  she  was  '  so  very  weary.'  Then  she  began  to  tell 
me  how  happy  she  was  because  I  had  come,  and  how 
much  she  knew  she  should  love  me.  Her  manners 
were  so  ingenuous-  that  I  could  not  accuse  her  of 
flattery ;  so  I  responded  warmly.  If  she  remembered 
rightly,  I  resembled  my  father  very  much,  though 
my  hair  and  eyes  were  darker.  And  when  she  saw 
the  tears  that  would  come  at  the  mention  of  that  dear 
name,  she  looked  half-shocked,  and  tried  to  turn  my 
thoughts  to  other  subjects,  with  such  earnestness  that, 
for  her  sake,  I  resolutely  banished  every  trace  of 
emotion.  She  seemed  relieved  when  I  smiled  again, 


152  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

and  rung  the,  bell,  saying  she  would  send  for  her 
children,  and  present  them  to  me.  > 

"  My  three  little  cousins  embraced  me  with  every 
demonstration  of  pleasure.  Helen  is  seven,  and 
Grace  and  Herbert,  the  twins,  are  five  years  old.  0, 
Dora,  I  have  seen  beautiful  children,  but  never  before 
such  perfect  gems  of  childish  loveliness  !  Grace  and 
Bertie  are  exceedingly  small,  and  dazzlingly  fair. 
Their  features  are  so  much  alike,  so  exact  in  their  re 
semblance,  that,  were  they  of  the  same  sex,  and 
dressed  alike.  I  think  it  would  be  impossible  to  distin 
guish  one  from  the  other.  Hair  like  their  mother's, 
only  more  golden,  softer  and  more  glossy,  ripples  in 
'shii^ng  curls  over  their  snowy,  dimpled  shoulders. 
Every  feature  is  chiselled  after  the  purest  model,  and 
.'their  eyes  are  as  clear  and  blue  as-  a  June  sky. 
Even  now,  dear  Dora,  till  you :>ha^ve; .seen  them,  you 
can  have  no  idea  of  the  eherubiJpoveliness  of  these 
little  ones.  *  »'  ^fe 

"I  turned  from  the  chiklrerf t<^pir  girlish-looking 
mamma  (who  has  counted  OTT^  twenty -five  years), 
and  half  repented  that  I  had  called  her  a  'child-wife;' 
but,  an  hour  afterwards,  I  involuntarily  pronounced 
her  a  '  child-mother.'  She  yielded  herself  to  their 
simplest  wish,  and  joined  their  play  with  such  per 
fect  abandon,  that  she  seemed  a  very  child  among 
them.  Though  each  character  was  so  becoming  to 
her,  and  she  appeared  as  happy  as  a  bird,  my  heart 
feared  for  her  something  which  even  my  own  thoughts 
could  not  define. 

"  At  dinner  I  was  introduced  to  the  other  mem 
bers  of  the  family,  Mr.  Ike  Lincoln,  brother  to  aunt 
Lucy's  husband,  and  Lauretta  Fay,  the  gentleman's 
ward.  -  Mr.  Ike  Lincoln  is  a  very  benevolent-looking, 
portly  bachelor  of  thirty-eight.  He  studied  my  face 
all  dinner- time  :  at  last  I  grew  nervous  under  his 


NEW    FRIENDS    AND    A    NEW    HOME.  153 

sharp  glances  (he  has  the  keenest  eyes  I  ever  saw); 
'and,  when  he  perceived  it,  he  devoted  himself  .to  his 
Sessert,  hut  with  a  peculiar  smile  upon  his  lips,  which 
I  tried  in  vain  to  read. 

"Miss  Fay  is  handsome,  and  haughty,  and  cold. 
I  have  hardly  heard  her  speak  yet.  She  seems  to 
look  down  upon  my  humble  self  as  though  I  were 
unworthy  of  her  notice ;  still  I  may  like  her  much 
upon  acquaintance. 

"  Sept.  8.  —  I  begin  to  feel  quite  at  home  now, 
and  think  I  shall  be  happy  here.  I  wanted  to  com 
mence  teaching  my  little  cousins  at  once,  but  aunt 
Lucy  declared  I  should  not  while  brother  Frank 
remains  with  us,  which  is  to  be  but  a  few  days.  9^  ; 

"I  like  Mr.  Ike  Lincoln  extremely  well;  he*  is 
rather  eccentric  in  his,  ways ;  some  people  would  call 
it  originality.  I  jj^e  almost  forgotten  the  piercing 
glances  which  so  jZsconcerted  me  when  I  first  met 
him,  for  his  eyesMlw  jbeam  with  a  friendly  light. 
Aunt  Lucy  says'^is.hfc  peculiarity  to  look  through 
everybody  until  he  is  satisfied  in  regard  to  their 
character.  He  is  a  physiognomist,  and  says  that 
never,  upon  acquaintance  with  any  one  person,  has  he 
had  reason  to  change  the  first  estimate  he  made  of 
his  or  her  character.  Aunt  Lucy  laughingly  tells 
him  that  this  is  the  very  reason  why  he  never  has 
been  married,  and  why,  she  fears,  he  never  will  be ; 
for,  if  he  can  discover  every  defect  of  character  at 
first  sight,  he  will  be  in  little  danger  of  losing  his 
heart.  For  my  own  part,  I  might  be  embarrassed  in 
the  presence  of  such  a  skilful  reader  of  human 
hearts,  were  it  not  for  his  genial  manners,  which 
throw  a  perfect  charm  around  him. 

"  He  wishes  me  to  call  him  '  uncle  Ike,'  as  the 
children  do.  I  was  much  amused  at  the  idea  of 


154  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

calling  so  young  a  man,  who  could  not  claim  the  title, 
'  uncle  ; '  '  but  he  insists  upon  it  so  earnestly,  that  I 
am  forced  to  yield.  In  fact,  he  is  '  uncle  Ike  '  to  the 
•whole  family ;  aunt  Lucy  and  Lauretta  both  call  him 
so,  therefore  I  shall  be  in  the  fashion. 

"  To-night  there  are  several  visitors  in  the  draw 
ing-room.  I  grew  weary  of  being  among  strangers, 
and  have  stolen  away  to  my  own  chamber  to  write  to 
ithee,  my  dear  Dora.  There  is  a  gentle  knocking  at 
my  door  ;  it  is  my  little  cousins  asking  for  admittance ; 
so  I  must  lay  down  my  pen  and  chat  a  while  with 
them. 

"  They  have  gone,  the  dear  little  ones,  and  I  re 
sume  my  talk  with  you.  They  begin  to  call  me 
'  dear  cousin  Mina,'  and  I  love  them  dearly,  though 
I've  not  known  them  a  week. 

'•  Helen  said,  to-night.  '  I  am  glad  you  have  come  to 
be  our  dear  cousin  and  teacher,  for  I  don't  think  we 
shall  be  lonesome  any  more.' 

"  I  expressed  my  surprise  that  children,  in  such  a 
beautiful  home,  with  so  many  books  and  costly  play 
things,  should  complain  of  being  lonesome.  '  I  am 
often  lonesome,  though,'  persisted  Helen,  'for,  since 
our  governess  went  away,  I  have  only  my  music  les 
sons  to  attend  to.  Mamma  has  company  every  day. 
and  visits  so  much,  that  she  hasn't  much  time  to  talk 
or  play  with  us ;  but  we  have  a  nice  frolic  now  and 
then  with  her,  and  sometimes  uncle  Ike  takes  us  out 
to  ride.' 

"  'But  you  know  we  don't  go  out  often,  Nellie,' 
said  little  Grace,  '  and  then  it  seems  as  though  the 
Jong  days  never  would  let  night  come :  and  Maggie  is 
cross,  and  Lauretta  don't  love  to  have  children  around 
her.  I  am  glad  you  are  not  such  a  great  lady,  cousin 
Mina.'  (Here  the  little  one  showered  kisses  on  my 
forehead,  lips  and  cheeks.)  '0,  I  do  love  you  so 


NEW   FRIENDS  AND   A   NEW   HOME.  155 

much  !  I  shan't  ever  call  you  governess ;  for  gov- 
•  ernesses  are  cross  sometimes,  and  I  know 'you  never 
will  be.  I  shall  call  you  "cousin  Mina;"  and  0, 
we've  got  a  "cousin  Ned/'  too  !  Did  you  ever  see 
him?' 

"How  the  little  girls  pitied  me  because  I  didn't 
know  '  cousin  Ned '  !  Cousin  Ned  was  so  handsome, 
and  so  good,  and  funny,  too  !  When  he  was  at  home 
they  never  thought  of  being  lonesome,  he  told  such 
droll  stories,  and  frolicked  with  them,  and  made  them 
lots  of  presents.  0,  they  wished  he  had  stayed 
with  them,  instead  of  going  off  to  Europe  ! 

"  Bertie  raised  his  ringleted  head  from  my  lap, 
where  it  had  lain  quietly  during  his  sister's  rhapsodies 
upon  cousin  Ned,  saying.  '  You  have  n't  told  the  best 
thing  he  does ;  lie  tries  to  make  us  good,  and  teaches 
us  little  songs  about  Jesus  and  the  shepherds.  Every 
story  he  tells  isn't  funny.  Don't  you  remember, 
Grace,  that  one  about  little  Moses  in  the  basket,  and 
how  his  mother  fcid  him  in  the  rushes  close  to  the 
river?  I  like  such  stories  best.' 

"  'But,  you  haven't  told  me  who  cousin  Ned  is?' 
said  I. 

"  '0,1  forgot  that ! '  cried  Helen,  laughing  ;  '  why, 
he  is  papa's  and  uncle  Ike's  nephew,  and  this  is  his 
home,  only  he  has  been  gone  to  Europe  ever  so  long.'' 

"  '  Uncle  Ike  calls  him  his  boy.'  said  Grace ;  '  but 
he  an't  a  boy  : —  he  is  a  tall  man.  and  uncle  says  he 
is  his  "sole  heir."  What  does  "sole  heir"  mean, 
cousin  Mina  ? ' 

"When  I  explained  it  to  her,  she  laughed  glee 
fully.  '  0,  I  am  glad,  for  then  I  shall  have  a  cun 
ning  little  pony !  Ned  said  he  would  get  me  one 
when  he  had  money  enough.  How  rich  ne  will  be  ! 
Don't  you  know  Uncle  Ike  is  dreadful  rich,  even 
richer  than  papaj  and  papa  has  got  plenty  of  money  ?' 


156  THE   HARVEST    OF  LOVE. 

"  'Are  there  any  flowers  about  your  home  in  the 
country  ?  '  asked  Bertie. 

"  '  0,  yes,  a  great  many.' 

"  'How  I  should  love  to  live  there!  '  cried  the 
little  fellow,  a  glow  of  delight  overspreading  his  beau 
tiful  features.  '  We  all  went  to  the  country  in  July, 
and  Gracie  and  I  picked  our  hats  full  of  the  pretty 
flowers  everyday.' 

"  'You  are  a  beautiful  flower,  yourself,'  I  thought, 
as  I  kissed  his  blue-veined  forehead.  Their  nurse 
called  them  to  go  to  bed,  and  they  went  away,  saying, 
'  good-night,  good-night.' 

"  Dear  Dora,  I  have  learned  to-night  that  these 
lovely  children,  though  possessing  aifectionate  and 
amiable  parents,  and  surrounded  by  every  luxury 
wealth  can  command,  are  hungry  for  that  food  which 
nourisheth  the  soul.  Every  intellectual  and  physical 
want  is  supplied,  but  chance  is  suffered  to  mould 
their  infant  spirits.  How  unlike  my'  own  richly- 
blessed  childhood !  That  sainted  mother,  whose 
memory  is  ever  vernal  in  my  heart,  knew  and  under 
stood  every  want,  every  impulse  of  my  childish  soul. 
While  she  lived,  my  spirit  seemed  to  grow  into  hers, 
so  complete  and  beautiful  was  her  influence  over  me. 
Even  now  I  feel  her  presence  near  me,  prompting  me 
to  teach  these  little  ones  those  things  which  will  germ 
inate  heavenly  plants  in  the  garden  of  the  heart. 
May  her  spirit  guide  me,  that  I  may  do  my  duty 
well ! 

"  Sept.  12. —  All  of  aunt  Lucy's  children  an- 
much  petted  and  beloved,  but  little  Bertie  is  the  idol 
of  the  mansion.  He  is  never  eluded,  whatever  IK* 
may  do,  or  wherever  he  may  go.  There  is  a  charm 
about  the  child  ;  his  voice  and  smile  seem  to  throw  a 
spell  round  every  heart.  I  feel  it  already  myself. 


NEW    FRIENDS   AND    A   NEW   HOME.  157 

Though  I  love  Helen  an<l>TGrace  dearly,  I  have  un 
consciously  given  Bertie ;,  the  largest  share  of  my 
heart. 

"  At  first.  I  fancied  that  Grace  and  Bertie  were  as 
much  alike,  in  character  and  disposition,  as  they  are 
in  form  and  feature ;  but  I  find  it  is  not  so.  Grace  is 
like  her  mother,  affectionate,  impulsive,  volatile.  Over 
Bertie's  face,  and  beaming  from  his  eyes,  there  is  a 
spiritual  light,  never  reflected  from  the  countenance 
of  his  gay  little  sister.  He  is  a  dreamy,  earnest, 
thoughtful  child.  I  am  often  startled  by  his  quaint 
conceits,  or  by  the  holy  expression  of  his  face  when 
he  sits  quietly  thinking.  There  is  a  heavenly  pres 
ence  about  him;  sometimes  I  think  the  angels  are 
communing  with  him. 

"He  is  passionately  fond  of  flowers,  and  often  his 
papa  buys  a  choice  bouquet  for  his  darling.  It  is 
really  affecting  to  see  the  joyful  tenderness  with 
which  he  will  examine  the  little  floral  gems.  I  must 
tell  him  their  names  ;  and  those  which  he  has  seen 
growing,  he  regards  with  peculiar  pleasure.  The 
vases  in  aunt  Lucy's  chamber  are  always  filled  with 
Bertie's  flowers.  He  often  trims  my  hair  with  them, 
or  twines  them  among  his  own  fair  cm-Is. 

"  Bertie  loves  everybody,  but  Grace  better  than 
all  others.  She  seems  to  be  the  sunbeam,  the  joy  of 
his  life  ;  and  the  buoyant  Grace  regards  her  more  del 
icate  brother  with  a  strange  mixture  of  tenderness 
and  admiration.  She  \\ill  lead  him  about  with  a 
patronizing  air,  and,  when  he  is  weary,  lay  his  head 
in  her  lap  and  sing  to  him.  until  the  canary  joins  in  a 
wild  chorus. 

"Uncle  Ike  will  take  him  into  the  library,  and 
spend  hours  in  turning  over  books  of  plates,  and 
listen  with  delight  to  his  unanswerable  questions. 
The  servants  almost  worship  him;  and  was  there  one 


158  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

particle  less  of  the  angelic  in  his  composition,  they 
•would  spoil  him  with  indulgence.  Even  Lauretta's 
haughty  smile  is  softened  when  he  is  by,  and  her 
tones,  in  addressing  him,  are  love-tones. 

"  Dora,  do  you  think  my  description  of  little  Bertie 
is  too  glowing  to  be  actually  true  ?  Believe  me,  my 
sweet  friend,  I  have  written  with  the  pen  of  truth, 
not  imagination.  Bertie  is  an  angel  ;  strayed  from 
Paradise,'  and  I  fear  that  earth  cannot  keep  him  long. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  tired  of  my  juvenile  stories, 
for  I  must  tell  you  one  more.  Last  night  the  chil 
dren  called  me  into  the  nursery,  where  they  were  un 
dressing,  and  begged  me  to  tell  them  a  story  while 
they  went  to  sleep.  '  Please  come  in,  cousin  Mina,' 
pleaded  Bertie,  '  and  hear  us  say  our  prayers.  Mag 
gie  is  in  such  a  hurry,  we  have  to  say  them  by  our 
selves,  only  when  mamma  has  time  to  come  to  us.' 

"  I  could  not  resist  their  entreaties ;  so  I  dismissed 
Maggie,  and  put  the  snowy  night-dresses  on  their 
fairy  forms,  and  tied  over  each  little  head  a  tiny  ruf 
fled  cap.  Then  I  sat  down,  and  the  darlings  knelt 
around  me.  A  sweet  solemnity  rested  down  upon 
my  heart.  I  fancied  the  air  vibrated  with  the  rush 
of  angels'  pinions.  Think  you  not  it  was  so  ?  For,  if 
celestial  guardians  ever  attend  children,  as  I  believe 
they  do,  might  not  a  bright  band  encircle  them  when 
they  knelt  to  pray  ?  I  felt  they  were  there,  holy  and 
glorious,  but  scarcely  more  pure  than  the  sinless  ones 
bowed  at  their  evening  orisons. 

"  First,  Helen  repeated  her  prayer,  slowly  and  rev 
erently,  with  her  head  bowed,  ajid  her  hands  folded 
meekly  upon  her  breast. 

"  Bertie  commenced.  '  Our  Father,'  with  his  head 
thrown  back,  and  his  clasped  hands  upraised  A  rapt 
smile  played  round  his  mouth,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to 
pierce  the  veil  hiding  heavenly  things  from  our  mor- 


NEW   FRIENDS  AND   A   NEW   HOME.  159 

tal  gaze.  His  tones  were  exultant,  as  though  his  soul 
rose  upward  on  the  holy  words.  A  little  child,  pray 
ing  thus !  My  heart  stood  still  with  awe.  I  feared, 
in  that  ecstatic  trance,  his  spirit,  too  beautiful,  too 
strong  for  his  fragile  body,  would  soar  heavenward,  and 
leave  untenanted  the  lovely  clay.  When  the  '  imen ' 
was  breathed,  his  head  dropped  slowly  till  it  rested 
in  my  lap,  as  if  the  stragglings  of  his  spirit  had  ex 
hausted  his  tender  frame. 

"  Then  Grace  lisped  her  prayer  in  sweet  accents, 
with  a  roguish  gleam  in  her  blue  eyes,  which  were 
upturned  to  mine.  With  the  last  word  upon  her  lips, 
she  sprang  forward,  and  threw  her  arms  about  my  neck, 
telling  me,  'mid  a  shower  of  kisses,  '  how  very  much 
she  loved  me '  ! 

"  After  they  were  in  bed,  I  told  stories  to  the  coax 
ing  girls  until  slumber  kissed  their  white  eyelids. 
Bertie  had  lain  quietly  in  his  crib,  but,  when  I  rose 
to  go,  he  spoke  out,  suddenly,  '  Cousin  Mina,  if  I 
should  die,  should  I  be  an  angel  ?  ' 

"  '  I  sincerely  believe  you  would,  darling.'  I  put 
my  hand  on  his  forehead.  It  was  feverish  to  my 
touch,  and  his  eyes  burned  with  a  strange,  unnatural 
lustre.  How  I  wished  in  my  heart  that  he  would 
say  something  simple  and  childish,  and  then  drop  off 
to  sleep,  as  his  sisters  had  done ! 

"  '  Mina,  do  flowers  grow  in  heaven,  and  does  God 
let  his  little  angels  pick  them  ?  ' 

"  'I  never  have  seen  heaven,  Bertie,  but  I  think 
there  must  be  flowers  there.' 

"'Yes,  I  know  there  are!'  cried  Bertie,  half 
raising  himself  from  his  pillow  ;  '  brighter  and  sweeter 
than  these  we  have  here.  When  I  am  an  angel,  I 
mean  always  to  wear  a  crown  of  flowers  !  Won't  that 
be  beautiful  ? ' 

"  '  Very  beautiful,  indeed,  my  love;  but  why  don't 


160  THE    HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

you  go  to  sleep  ?  Helen  and  Grace  are  far  in  dream 
land  now.' 

"  '  I  am  going  to  sleep  now;  good-night.  Perhaps 
I  shall  dream  I  am  an  angel.' 

"  I  watched  him  until  the  golden  lashes  rested  mo 
tionless  upon  his  cheeks,  and  he  slept  sweetly.  As 
I  turned  to  leave  the  room,  aunt  Lucy  stepped  in. 
She  looked  gratified  to  see  me  there.  '  I  always  come 
to  look  upon  my  darlings  before  I  sleep,'  she  said ; 
1  but  not  often  until  after  their  eyes  are  shut  fast.' 

"  I  told  her  of  the  evening  prayers,  and  of  Bertie's 
earnest  questioning.  She  bent  over  her  sleeping 
child,  with  glistening  eyes. 

"  '  Bertie  is  a  strange  child  ;  so  unlike  his  sisters  ! 
He  asks  the  oddest  questions,  sometimes,  about  things 
I  never  thought  of !  He  is  so  beautiful  —  so  good  ! 
I  fear  I  cannot  always  keep  him  with  me.  Elmina, 
I  fancy  I  read  reproach  in  your  eyes.  You  think  I 
am  too  thoughtless  and  giddy  for  a  mother.' 

" '  I  reproach  you,  aunt  Lucy  !  '  I  exclaimed. 
'  What  possible  reason  have  I  to  do  so  ?  ' 

"  She  looked  at  me  seriously ;  and  such  a  look 
was  so  unusual  on  her  face,  that  I  felt  it  the  more 
deeply. 

"  '  Elmina,  I  don't  know  why  it  is  that  ever  since 
I  have  known  you,  I  have  felt  dissatisfied  with  my 
self.  There  is  something  in  your  ways,  though  I 
know  you  never  meant  it  so,  my  dear,  that  keeps  tell 
ing  me  I  am  wasting  precious  time  in  useless,  trifling 
pursuits.' 

"  There  was  such  sweet  simplicity  in  her  manner, 
that  I  felt  privileged  to  speak  with  the  freedom  that  I 
would  to  a  young  companion.  I  told  her  of  the  holy 
trust  God  had  committed  to  her,  in  the  guidance  of 
her  children,  and  how  delightfully  she  might  spend  a 
share  of  her  time  in  teaching  and  amusing  them. 


NEW  FRIENDS  AND  A  NEW  HOME.     161 

"  She  listened  earnestly,  and  then  said,  with  a  half 
sigh,  '  You  are  very  right,  I  have  no  doubt ;  but  you 
know  my  position  in  society  makes  it  impossible  for 
me  to  devote  much  time  to  my  children,  for  there  is 
such  a  continual  round  of  visiting  and  company,  and 
I  never  could  have  any  system  about  my  affairs. 
Though  you  are  so  young,  you  know  better  hovf  to 
manage  children  than  I  do,  and  I  entrust  them  to  you 
with  perfect  confidence.' 

"  I  thanked  her  for  her  good  opinion,  and  expressed 
my  pleasure  in  the  duties  assigned  me ;  still,  I  won 
dered  how  a  mother  could  so  willingly  resign  her 
highest  duty  and  dearest  privilege  to  another. 

"  Aunt  Lucy  cleared  the  thoughtful  shadows  from 
her  brow,  and,  with  a  light  laugh,  said  that  I  was  a 
dear  girl,  but  so  practical  and  sensible  she  was  almost 
afraid  of  me.  Then  she  tried  to  coax  me  into  the 
drawing-room  ;  she  had  learned  a  new  piece  of  music, 
which  she  must  play  to  me.  I  resisted  her  playful 
entreaties,  and  went  to  my  own  chamber,  where  I  sat 
down  and  dwelt  tearfully  upon  the  scene  with  my 
cousins. 

"  My  feelings  Avere  so  mellowed  that  my  griefs 
rose  before  my  mind  with  new  acuteness  and  power. 
I  yearned  to  see  my  mother's  quiet  grave,  where  the  last 
rose  of  summer  has  bloomed  and  withered.  I  thought 
of  my  father,  sleeping  in  the  broad,  cold  ocean  ;  of 
Frank,  who  has  gone  to  toil  at  his  profession  in  a  distant 
city ;  and  0,  how  I  longed  to  see  your  dear  face,  my 
sister,  friend  !  What  wonder  that  my  tears  fell,  or 
that  my  head  was  bowed  in  anguish,  at  the  tender, 
melancholy  retrospection  ? 

"  But,  before  I  slumbered,  I  read  one  of  the  blessed 
Psalms,  which  seemed  woven  of  comfort  and  hope; 
and  I  laid  my  head  upon  my  pillow,  with  a  heart 
peaceful  and  resigned. 
11 


162  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

"  Sept.  16.  £  Cousin  Ned  '  seem  to  be  household 
words  ;  I  hear  them  almost  every  hour  in  the  day, 
coupled  with  expressions  of  affection  and  praise.  Un 
cle  Ike  had  a  letter  from  him  this  morning,  and  read 
it  aloud  at  the  breakfast-table.  How  pleased  and  an 
imated  everybody  was  !  Even  the  taciturn  Lauretta 
was  eloquent  in  praising  '  cousin  Ned/  I  was  glad, 
too,  from  sympathy ;  and  really  wished  I  knew  this 
game  cousin  Ned.  I  asked  aunt  Lucy  about  him, 
and  her  long  story  I  will  tell  to  you  in  a  few  words. 
He  is  an  orphan,  and  was  adopted,  some  years  ago,  by 
his  uncle,  Ike  Lincoln.  Uncle  Ike  —  who  declares 
himself  an  incurable  old  bachelor,  and  I  marvel  at  it, 
when  he  is  so  young,  and  so  finely  constituted  for 
domestic  happiness  —  has  determined  to  make  this  Ed 
ward  Lincoln  his  heir.  He  has  educated  him  liberally, 
and  has  now  sent  him  to  Europe,  as  the  finishing  means 
of  making  him  a  complete  gentleman.  And,  if  I  am 
to  believe  his  partial  relatives,  he  is  worthy  of  all  the 
wealth  and  affection  lavished  upon  him  ;  a  paragon 
of  manly  excellence.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  am  im 
patient,  with  the  rest,  for  the  return  of  Edward  Lin 
coln  from  his  foreign  tour  ? 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  have  me  tell  you 
something  about  Lauretta  Fay.  She,  too,  is  an  or 
phan  and  an  heiress.  People  suppose  her  fortune  to 
be  very  large  ;  though  Uncle  Ike,  her  guardian,  shakes 
his  head  doubtfully  when  Lauretta's  property  is  spoken 
of.  She  was  the  only  child  of  an  old  friend  of  uncle 
Ike's,  and,  since  her  father's  death,  she  has  made  this 
house  her  home.  She  is  handsome,  and  might  be 
beautiful,  were  it  not  for  the  coldness  and  hauteur 
which  characterize  her  manners.  I  imagine  she  is  a 
coquette,  from  what  little  I  have  seen  of  her  in  com 
pany.  She  dresses  magnificently,  and  is  constantly 
attended  by  a  train  of  admiring  and  obsequious  beaux. 


NEW   FRIENDS  AND   A   NEW  HOME.  163 

I  cannot  get  acquainted  with  her,  for  the  peculiar 
tone  in  which  she  says,  '  Miss  Clement,'  checks  every 
feeling  of  familiarity. 

"  Aunt  Lucy  and  Lauretta  spend  a  great  amount 
of  money  and  much  time,  in  '  shopping.'  The  quan 
tity  of  silk,  satins,  embroideries  and  ribbons,  which 
they  purchase,  is  astonishing  to  one  of  my  simple 
habits. 

"  There  !  Helen  and  grace  are  calling  me  to  go  and 
walk  with  them.  I  cannot  deny  the  dear  children ; 
BO  I  drop  my  pen.  More  anon. 

"  ELMINA." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

VARIOUS   OPINIONS. 

"  WHO  is  that  beautiful  young  lady  leading  Mrs. 
Lincoln's  little  twins  from  the  room  ?  Excepting  your 
queenly  self,  she  is  the  loveliest  girl  I  have  seen  for 
a  month,"  said  one  of  Lauretta's  admirers,  at  a  small 
party  given  by  Mrs.  Lincoln. 

Lauretta  colored  with  vexation,  and,  curling  her 
lip  scornfully,  replied:  "  0,  she  is  a  sort  of  a  cousin 
of  Mrs.  Lincoln's  —  a  poor  girl  from  the  country. 
She  is  the  children's  governess,  though  she  is  treated 
as  one  of  the  family." 

"  0 — h,  a — h  !  "  stammered  the  gentleman,  evi 
dently  ashamed  at  his  egregious  mistake  in  praising  a 
governess. 

"  And  you  think  her  beautiful  ?  "  asked  Lauretta, 
smiling  brilliantly,  still  throwing  a  look  of  tender 
reproach  into  her  flashing  eyes. 

The  young  gentleman  was  enchanted.  "I  don't 
think  anything  about  her."  he  said,  with  a  flattering 
bow.  lf  Miss  Fay  is  so  radiant  to-night,  that  all  other 
stars,  however  bright,  are  dim  beside  her  dazzling 
beauty/' 

The  fair  coquette  bent  her  head  graciously. 

Miss  Arlington  now  approached,  exclaiming,  "  I 
beg  you  to  introduce  me  to  that  charming  girl  when 

(104) 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS.  165 

she  comes  back  again.  They  tell  me  she  is  Mrs.  Lin 
coln's  niece.  •  What  a  smile  she  has !  Still  there  is 
a  look  of  quiet  sorrow  upon  her  sweet  face." 

"  I  believe  she  has  buried  her  father  lately,"  said 
Lauretta. 

"Poor  girl!"  said  Miss  Arlington,  compassion 
ately.  ' '  That  accounts  for  her  gentle,  reserved  man 
ners.  I  am  sure  she  is  amiable,  for  when  little  Grace 
asked  her  to  go  into  the  nursery,  and  tell  her  and 
Bertie  a  story  before  they  went  to  sleep,  she  went 
directly  as  though  it  was  her  greatest  pleasure  to  make 
others  happy."  » 

"It  is  quite  natural  that  Miss  Clement  should 
wish  to  gratify  the  children,  as  she  is  their  govern 
ess,"  said  Lauretta. 

Miss  Arlington's  intelligent  eye  told  that  she  under 
stood  the  hidden  meaning  in  Lauretta's  tones.  She  re 
doubled  her  enthusiasm.  ' '  How  the  dear  children  must 
love  her  !  There  she  comes  again  ;  I  mean  to  get  ac 
quainted  with  her  if  possible.  Come,  Miss  Fay,  and 
introduce  me." 

"  Excuse  me,  I  am  too  weary  to  cross  the  room 
now  ;  her  aunt  is  standing  near  her,  and  will  doubt 
less  do  you  the  favor.  You  must  generously  overlook 
all  her  oddities,  or  mistakes,  as  she  is  quite  new  in 
society." 

The  young  lady  knew  how  to  appreciate  the  smile 
which  accompanied  these  words,  and  answered  with  a 
little  more  spirit  than  is  consistent  with  Chester- 
fieldian  etiquette :  "  I  do  not  imagine  that  I  shall 
discover  any  oddities  or  mistakes  to  overlook.  Miss 
Clement  has  evidently  had  the  advantages  of  educa 
tion  and  of  refined  associates,  though  she  may  be 
new  in  New  York  society.  There  is  a  graceful  ease 
in  her  manners  which  would  become  any  who  pride 
themselves  upon  being  leaders  of  the  ton." 


166  THE    HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

If  Lauretta  had  known  that  uncle  Ike's  eyes  had 
been  sending  scornful  daggers,  and  that  his  ears  had 
heard  all  her  conversation,  she  would  have  trembled 
as  he  canie  near.  When  he  began  speaking,  she 
guessed  the  truth,  and  shrank  from  his  gaze.  He 
spoke  to  Miss  Arlington,  but  looked  at  Lauretta. 

"  Miss  Arlington,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  pre 
senting  you  to  Miss  Clement,  the  young  lady  standing 
by  my  sister-in-law  ?  She  is  her  niece  ;  and,  in  my 
opinion,  the  most  accomplished  and  amiable  girl  of  my 
acquaintance." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Lincoln ;  I  have  been  wishing 
for  an  introduction,  for  I  am  quite  charmed  with  her 
appearance." 

"  The  spell  "will  not  be  broken  when  you  converse 
with  her.  as  her  mind  is  as  symmetrical  as  her  person. 
Let  me  conduct  you  to  her."  Uncle  Ike  gave  Lau 
retta  another  withering  glance,  and  gallantly  led  Miss 
Arlington  away. 

Lauretta  fanned  herself,  violently  agitated,  while 
burning  blushes  poured  over  her  neck  and  brow. 
"  What  shocking  eyes,  Mr.  Ike  Lincoln  has  !  "  she 
said.  "  I  actually  tremble  to  have  him  look  at  me." 

The  exquisite  by  her  side  coincided  with  her  opin 
ion.  The  gentleman  in  question  was  shockingly 
abrupt  and  straightforward  in  his  ways;  so  eccentric, 
too  !  just  to  think  of  calling  Mrs.  Lincoln's  governess 
the  most  accomplished  lady  of  his  acquaintance  ! 

"  But  rich  bachelors  are  privileged  personages," 
said  Lauretta,  pouting  prettily,  "  and  Miss  Arlington 
is  as  bad  as  uncle  Ike.  She  presumes  upon  her 
station  in  society,  and  is  frightfully  independent." 

"  Miss  Arlington's  manners  are  intolerable,"  said 
the  gentleman,  knowing  it  would  delight  his  com 
panion  to  have  him  abuse  her  rival,  as  she  considered 
Miss  Arlington;  "no  one  thinks  of  admiring  her. 


VARIOUS    OPINIONS.  167 

Let  me  lead  you  to  the  piano ;  there  seems  to  be  a 
pause  in  the  conversation,  and  your  incomparable 
music  will  make  a  refreshing  interlude." 

Lauretta  took  Mr.  Carleton's  arm,  and  passed  with 
him  through  the  drawing-rooms,  listening  graciously 
to  the  unmeaning  flattery  which  he  whispered  in  her 
ear. 

Elmina  soon  found  herself  the  centre  of  a  circle 
consisting  of  the  most  intelligent  and  refined  in  the 
company,  brought  together  by  the  tact  of  uncle  Ike. 
Unconscious  of  the  admiration  she  was  exciting,  she 
joined  earnestly  in  the  conversation.  The  freshness 
and  originality  of  her  expressions,  combined  with  the 
unaffected  ease  of  her  manner,  had  more  potency  over 
the  admiration  of  the  other  sex  than  all  Lauretta's 
coquettish  graces  and  dazzling  smiles. 

When  Lauretta  perceived  that  her  music  was  unno 
ticed  by  those  whom  she  most  wished  to  attract  to  her 
side,  she  rose  proudly  from  the  piano,  and  no  persua 
sions  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Carleton  could  induce  her 
to  finish  the  brilliant  overture  she  had  commenced. 
She  saw  the  respect  and  attention  paid  to  Elmina, 
and  that  Miss  Arlington  and  her  aristocratic  brother 
were  already  talking  with  her  with  the  familiarity 
of  old  acquaintances.  Her  bosom  swelled  with  angry 
jealousy.  She  had  counted  Mr.  Arlington  among  her 
admirers,  and  his  wealth  and  high  station,  independ 
ent  of  his  cultivated  mind  and  elevated  principles, 
caused  her  to  value  his  attentions  above  those  of  any 
gentleman,  present.  Her  ill-humor  was  so  apparent 
that  Mr.  Carleton  left  her,  feeling  himself  somewhat 
aggrieved. 

After  an  agreeable  conversation,  Mr.  Arlington 
proposed  to  Elmina  that  she  should  play  and  sing  for 
them. 

''  t  make   no  pretensions   to  musical  skill,"   was 


108  THE  HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

the  stalling  reply.  "  I  only  play  for  my  own  pleas 
ure." 

"  I  hope  you  will  play  for  our  pleasure  now,"  said 
Miss  Arlington.  Elmina  hesitated  a  moment,  but 
Lucy  whispered  encouragingly,  "  Do  not  hesitate, 
Mina ;  you  need  not  fear  to  play."  She  suffered  Mr. 
Arlington  to  lead  her  to  the  instrument,  and,  without 
one  foolish  apology,  commenced  playing  a  simple  mel 
ody,  and  accompanied  it  with  a  voice  of  surpassing 
sweetness.  Everybody  was  pleased,  and  she  was  per 
suaded  to  play  again,  and  yet  again. 

"My  dear  Lauretta!"  exclaimed  Lucy,  "why 
do  you  sit  here  alone  ?  every  one  is  asking  for  you." 

Lauretta  sat  alone  in  the  library,  moodily  pulling 
in  bits  her  fragrant  bouquet.  "  Let  them  ask  for  me, 
then :  I  prefer  to  be  alone." 

<;  What  is  the  matter ;  are  you  sick  ?  " 

"  No,  I  'm  well  enough." 

"  Then  come  and  play,"  said  Lucy,  coaxingly. 
:'  Elmina  and  Miss  Arlington  have  been  playing,  and 
the  company  now  begin  to  call  for  you.  Come  now, 
you  know  you  are  the  best  player  and  singer  present, 
and  it  would  be  unkind  to  deny  our  guests  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  you." 

"  If  Miss  Clement  has  played,  I  am  sure  I  shan't! 
The  company  must  have  grown  fastidious  after  listen 
ing  to  her  performance." 

Gentle  Mrs.  Lincoln  looked  bewildered  and  half 
frightened.  t;  What  excuse  shall  I  make  for  you, 
Lauretta  ?  "  she  said. 

"  0,  here  she  is,  the  queen  of  song!  "  cried  Mr. 
Arlington,  gayly,  as  he  stepped  into  the  room.  "  We 
have  been  listening  to  some  excellent  music,  and 
now  we  wish  to  hear  Miss  Fay's  rich  voice ;  do  not 
deny  me." 

A  flash  of  pleasure  lighted  her  face;  these  well- 


VARIOUS   OPINIONS.  169 

timed  compliments  restored  her  to  brilliant  temper. 
' '  I  was  a  little  weary,  and  so  I  stole  away  by  my 
self;  but,  if  it  will  give  you  pleasure,  I  will  play.'' 

Lauretta  was  a  superior  player,  and  her  voice  was 
rich  and  full.  She  almost  excelled  herself  on  this 
occasion.  Elmina  listened  with  unfeigned  pleasure. 
She  said  to  uncle  Ike,  "My  simple  performance  is 
quite  thrown  into  the  shade  by  Lauretta's  splendid 
playing."  Elmina  spoke  from  her  heart,  and  without 
a  single  touch  of  jealousy.  Uncle  Ike  understood 
her,  and  replied,  with  a  kind  smile  :  "  Lauretta  is  cer 
tainly  an  excellent  musician  ;  but  your  '  simple  per 
formance,'  as  you  call  it.  gave  me  the  most  pleasure. 
You  played  to  gratify  others  —  she  for  effect." 

"  However  much  I  might  disagree  with  you,  I  dare 
not  dispute  you,"  said  Elmina  playfully.  "You 
claim  such  skill  in  reading  the  thoughts  and  motives 
of  people,  that  you  doubtless  would  call  me  presumpt 
uous  should  I  express  rny  mind," 

"  Nay,  Elmina,  I  could  not  be  so  unjust ;  but,  supper 
is  announced,  and  I  see  Mr.  Arlington  coming  this 
way ;  he  will  offer  to  escort  you  to  the  table." 

'•I  wish  you  would  wait  upon  me,  uncle  Ike,  if 
there  is  no  other  lady  whom  you  should  prefer." 

"  I  declare,  you  are  nervous  because  Mr.  Arling 
ton  looks  at  you  so  earnestly.  I  see  you  are  unused 
to  such  overpowering  attentions." 

"  I  don't  like  to  be  flattered  ;  I  never  know  what 
tc  say." 

"  Well,  I  am  not  flattering  you,  when' I  tell  you 
that  I  feel  honored  by  your  preference."  Uncle 
Ike  laughingly  offered  his  arm:  "  Come,  my  charm 
ing,  fresh  little  friend  !  " 

Mr.  Arlington  turned  away  disappointed. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WELCOME   HOME. 

"HURRA!  hurra!"  cried  uncle  Ike,  dashing  into 
the  dining-room,  in  mad  haste.  "  Good  news  !  Ned 
is  coming  home!"  In  the  exuberance  of  his  joy, 
he  performed  sundry  boyish  antics,  and  then  seated 
himself  at  the  table  with  a  comical  air  of  suddenly 
assumed  dignity. 

There  was  a  joyful  echo  of  the  words,  "  Ned  is 
coming  home  !  "  "  When?  how  soon  may  we  expect 
him  ?  "  was  repeated  in  the  same  breath. 

"In  about  a  week,"  said  uncle  Ike,  referring  to 
his  letter.  "  He  writes  that  we  may  look  for  him  in 
a  week  after  receiving  this." 

"0,  joyful !  "  shouted  the  children ;  and  the  beam 
ing  faces  of  their  elders  showed  that  the  feeling  was 
responsive  in  every  breast. 

Then  there  arose  a  discussion  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  they  should  receive  the  beloved  traveller.  Mr. 
Lincoln  thought,  with  Lucy,  that  the  pleasantest  way 
to  welcome  him  would  be  to  invite  a  select  party  of 
his  personal  friends  on  the  night  of  his  arrival.  Uncle 
Ike  wanted  to  give  a  great  ball,  and  have  a  general 
jubilee;  but  Lauretta  protested  against  either  course. 
"Let  us  receive  him  quietly,"  she  said.  "After  so 
long  a  separation,  we  shall  want  him  all  to  ourselves 
for  a  few  days,  at  least.  I  really  think  Ned  would 

(170) 


WELCOME   HOME.  171 

be  disappointed  to  come  home  and  find  the  house  full 
of  company."  • 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right."  said  uncle  Ike; 
"and  your  opinion  shall  be  -weighed  with  the  rest, 
after  Elmina  has  expressed  hers,  as  the  least  interested 
one.  I  think  her  the  best  fitted  to  decide  upon  the 
proprieties  in  the  case." 

"  If  I  am  to  express  my  opinion,"  said  Elmina. 
"  I  shall  certainly  agree  with  Lauretta ;  if  I  were  in 
the  young  gentleman's  place,  I  should  prefer  to  be 
received  by  my  relatives  alone,  and  without  any 
parade." 

"Then  the  matter  is  decided,"  said  uncle  Ike. 
"  We  will  make  no  parade  about  it." 

Lauretta  looked  kindly  at  Elmina,  as  if  grateful 
for  her  assistance. 

The  next  day  was  cold  and  rainy,  so  all  the  female 
members  of  the  family  were  forced  to  remain  within 
doors.  Lauretta  and  Elmina  sat  with  Lucy  in  her 
private  parlor,  and  the  children  quietly  amused  them 
selves  in  one  corner.  Each  lady  had  her  needlework, 
and  the  minutes  flew  happily  by,  in  spite  of  the 
inclement  sky  without.  Lauretta  seldom  favored  the 
family  with  her  company  when  there  were  no  visitors ; 
and  when,  by  chance,  she  sat  an  hour  or  so  with 
them,  she  was  usually  cold  and  silent.  But  to-day 
she  was  in  her  sunniest  mood,  —  she  threw  off  her 
haughty  reserve,  and  chatted  cheerfully  Avith  her 
companions.  Elmina's  heart  warmed  with  pleasure 
at  this  first  unbending  of  the  proud  heiress  towards 
her,  and  she  talked  and  laughed  in  her  own  sweet 
way  until  Lauretta  wondered  that  she  had  not  before 
discovered  what  an  agreeable  companion  she  was. 

They  were  interrupted  in  a  pleasant  conversation 
by  the  sounds  of  footsteps,  and  eager  talking  in  the 


172  THE    HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

hall  below.  "I  really  believe  Ned  bas  come !  "  said 
Lucy,  opening  the  door.  • 

"He  has!  he  has!"  cried  Grace,  following  her 
mother.  "He  is  coming  up  stairs  with  papa  and 
uncle  Ike."  The  little  girl  sprang  up  and  down, 
clapping  her  hands  gleefully. 

Ned  had  arrived,  and  five  days  sooner  than  ex 
pected;  but  for  this  his  welcome  was  all  the  more 
joyful. 

Elmina  retreated  to  the  further  part  of  the  room, 
that  she  might  not  intrude  upon  the  first  moments  of 
their  reunion. 

The  young  man  was  as  demonstrative  of  his  pleas 
ure  as  the  children,  who  were  wild  with  joy.  He 
shook  and  kissed  his  little  cousins,  affectionately 
saluted  Lucy,  and  put  Lauretta's  hand  to  his  lips, 
while  his  eyes  expressed  volumes  of  admiration.  A 
flush  of  joy  glowed  on  Lauretta's  face,  and  animated 
her  features.  Elmina  thought  she  had  never  seen 
her  look  so  beautiful  before. 

It  was  many  minutes  before  the  greetings  were 
over,  and  then  a  flood  of  questions  unanswered,  and 
answers  without  questions,  were  poured  from  every 
tongue.  Each  seemed  to  vie  with  the  others  in  say 
ing  the  most  in  the  shortest  space  of  time.  El 
mina  had  a  fair  opportunity  to  observe  the  personal 
appearance  of  this  much  talked  of  "cousin.  Ned." 
His  figure  was  tall  and  finely  proportioned:  the 
developments  of  his  head  were  somewhat  marked ; 
his  wavy  hair,  of  raven  blackness,  was  thrown  back 
from  a  forehead  broad  and  white ;  and  his  eyes  were 
full  of  fire,  yet  softened  with  refined  feeling.  There 
was  an  air  of  high-breeding  about  him.  seemingly 
more  natural  than  acquired,  and  his  voice  was  pecu 
liarly  musical ;  there  was  something  in  its  mellow 
tones  which  touched  a  chord  of  olden  memory  in 


WELCOME  HOME.  173 

Elmina's  heart.  She  regarded  him  with  a  new  and 
increasing  interest.  In  the  eloquent  play  of  his 
features  there  was  something  strangely  familiar.  It 
could  not  be  his  resemblance  to  his  uncles,  for  his 
looks  and  manners  "strongly  contrasted  with  either  of 
them. 

Lucy  now  bethought  herself  to  introduce  her  niece. 
The  young  gentleman  took  her  hand  with  cordiality, 
but  Helen  and  Grace  were  so  importunate  in  their 
calls  upon  his  attention,  that  he  merely  gave  her  a 
passing  glance. 

\Elmina  took  a  retired  seat  and  resumed  her  needle 
work.  Mr.  George  Lincoln  left  for  his  place  of  busi 
ness,  and  Lucy  went  to  the  basement  to  give  some 
additional  orders  about  dinner.  Uncle  Ike  took  a 
large  rocking-chair,  and,  folding  his  arms,  sat  silently 
gazing  upon  his  nephew,  with  an  expression  of  fond 
affection.  Soon  Helen  and  Grace  went  to  gert  the 
pictures  they  had  drawn,  and  the  presents  they  had 
received  during  Ned's  absence,  to  display  to  him. 
Lauretta  and  the  young  traveller  occupied  the  sofa 
together,  and  little  Bertie  nestled  silently  and  fondly 
to  his  cousin's  side. 

How  beautiful  Lauretta  looked  !  All  her  hauteur 
was  merged  into  a  graceful  cordiality,  all  the  coquet 
tish  airs  which  she  often  assumed  in  company  with 
those  of  the  opposite  sex  were  exchanged  for  a  sweet 
simplicity  of  manner ;  a  new  and  pleasing  light  beamed 
from  her  eye.  and  brightened  every  feature,  and  her 
lute-like  voice  seemed  to  flow  in  liquid  music  from 
her  heart. 

Elmina  gazed  upon  her,  marvelling  at  the  trans 
formation.  Could  this  be  the  scornful,  arrogant 
Lauretta  Fay?  An  unconscious  smile  parted  her 
lips  as  she  said  to  herself,  "If  Lauretta  does  not 
love  this  Ned  Lincoln,  she  certainly  values  and 


174  THE   HAKVEST   OF  LOVE. 

esteems  him  above  all  others  of  her  acquaintance." 
And  Elmina  could  not  wonder  that  it  was  so.  as  she 
listened  to  his  manly,  intelligent  conversation.  His 
choice  yet  simple  language  testified  of  a  cultivated 
mind,  and  his  expressions  were  sparkling  with  wit 
and  humor.  Elmina's  breast  was  stirred  with  feel 
ings  which  she  herself  could  not  define.  It  was  not 
the  fascination  of  his  manner  which  riveted  her  at 
tention  ;  but  his  voice  and  smile  —  where  had  she 
heard  and  seen  them  before  ?  The  query  was  repeated 
so  often  that  she  grew  bewildered,  and,  at  length,  in 
considerable  agitation,  she  left  the  room,  inwardly 
chiding  herself  for  yielding  to  the  unconquerable 
weakness. 

Uncle  Ike's  eye  followed  her  with  a  quizzical 
gleam,  and  a  knowing,  self-satisfied  smile  spread  it 
self  over  his  benign  countenance  ;  he  even  rubbed  his 
hands  softly  together,  as  a  gentle  vent  to  some  inward 
exultation. 

At  the  tea-table  cousin  Ned,  for  the  first  time,  nar 
rowly  observed  our  heroine ;  and  then  the  little  start 
he  gave,  and  the  sudden  lighting  of  his  face,  made  her 
pulse  beat  nervously.  He  did  not  address  her,  but 
she  knew  his  eyes  were  often  stealing  a  glance  at  her. 
She  grew  embarrassed  at  the  painful  earnestness  with 
which  he  regarded  her.  She  felt  that  his  observation 
of  her  was  very  unlike  the  sharp  scrutiny  which  so 
discomposed  her  at  first  meeting  uncle  Ike,  and  as 
unlike  the  undisguised  admiration  spoken  by  Mr. 
Arlington's  eyes  at  their  evening  party.  She  could 
not  analyze  his  look,  or  her  own  emotions.  At  length, 
she  did  not  dare  to  raise  her  eyes,  and  the  long 
lashes  swept  her  crimson  cheek. 

Uncle  Ike  rallied  her  upon  her  silence,  and  wished 
to  know  if  it  was  awe  of  his  travelled  nephew  which 
chained  her  tongue.  Lucy  joined  in  joking  her.  and 


.    WELCOME   HOME.  175 

For  a  moment  Elmina  felt  as  though  she  could  not 
bear  their  banter. 

Uncle  Ike  enjoyed  her  confusion,  and  then,  just  as 
he  felt  a  pang  of  remorse,  Elmina,  with  a  great  effort 
at  self-control,  stilled  the  tremor  agitating  her  frame, 
and  raised  her  head  composedly.  She  was  herself 
again. 

Uncle  Ike  seemed  infinitely  amused,  though  no 
one  at  the  table  could  guess  why.  and  laughed 
uproariously. 

Elmina  usually  spent  a  couple  of  hours  in  the 
library  before  breakfast.  The  bookcase,  with  its 
rich  and  varied  stores,  was  the  chief  attraction,  and, 
as  the  apartment  answered  somewhat  to  her  kleal  of  a 
study-room,  it  was  her  favorite  seat.  The  furniture 
was  elegant  and  costly,  but  simple  in  style,  and  the 
rich  hues  of  the  carpet  blended  with  the  delicate 
green  of  the  silken  curtains,  and  threw  a  warm  glow 
upon  the  rose-wreaths  blooming  in  almost  life-like 
beauty  upon  the  frescoed  walls.  A  few  rare  paint 
ings,  busts,  and  statuettes,  filled  the  niches,  which 
seemed  expressly  made  for  them.  Elmina  often  sat 
at  a  beautiful  desk  of  oriental  workmanship,  which 
she  preferred  to  the  ponderous  writing-table  in  tho 
centre  of  the  room.  Here  she  spent  her  happiest 
hours,  in  the  silent  yet  intelligent  companionship  of 
books.  Here  she  revelled  in  the  poet's  airy  dreams, 
or  bent  breathless  over  pages  ef  historic  lore.  Her  2 
she  wept  or  laughed  in  obedience  to  the  changing 
spirit  of  the  drama,  and  pored  curiously  -over  huge 
scientific  volumes,  which  many  maidens  would  push 
away  in  disdain. 

On  tfoe  morrow,  Elmina  arose  with  the  sun,  and, 
after  making  her  simple  toilet,  took  her  accustomed 
seat  in  the  library.  But  somehow,  on  this  morning, 


176  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

her  tastes  were  capricious;  for.  though  she  bad  se 
lected  her  favorite  poet,  her  thoughts  wandered  far 
away  into  the  shadowy  past.  Her  eyes,  were  fixed 
upon  the  page,  but  pleasant  memories  rose  before,  and 
hid  the  letters  from  her  gaze.  She  dreamed  of  the 
sweet  time  when  death  or  changing  circumstance  had 
never  robbed  her  of  a  single  friend;  of  the  blessed 
days  of  childhood,  hallowed  by  the  love  of  tender 
parents,  and  of  that  beautiful  friendship  which  bright 
ened  those  glad  days.  Now,  both  father  and  mother- 
had  sought  a  better  home :  now,  she  was  separated 
from  her  only  brother  and  her  beloved  Dora,  and 
years  had  passed  since  she  had  heard  a  lisp  from  Josie 
Lee,  her  dear  teacher  and  elder  sister,  or  Clinton, 
whom  she  still  remembered  fondly.  But  she  forgot 
the  present  in  the  happy  past,  and  her  countenance 
was  softly  irradiated  with  the  sweet  memory. 

"  Good- morning,"  in  a  manly  voice,  started  the 
dreaming  girl.  It  was  uncle  Ike's  nephew  and  heir 
who  stood  before  her.  She  returned  his  salutation,, 
half-bewildered,  for  he  took  her  hand  and  held  it  fastr 
gazing  upon  her  with  a  tremulous  lip. 

"It  is  a  lovely  morning."  she  said,  ineffectually 
trying  to  regain  her  hand. 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  the  morning;  I  can  only 
think  of  the  joyful  fact  that  I  behold  Eimina  Clem 
ent  !  "  His  tone  was  full  of  feeling.  Eimina  could 
only  look  upon  him  in  anxious  surprise. 

"I  recognized  you  at  the  tea-table,"  continued  the 
young  man,  "  but,  as  you  did  not  claim  my  acquaint 
anceship,  I  could  not  speak  to  you  till  we  were  alone. 
Eimina!"  he  repeated,  with  increasing  earnestness ; 
"  but  you  do  not  respond  to  my  pleasure.  And  is- 
the  past  forgotten  ;  and  must  we  form  anew  our  ac 
quaintance,  as  though  we  had  never  met?  '; 

He  relinquished  her  hand,  and  stepped  back  with  a 
reproachful,  sorrowful  air. 


WELCOME    HOME.  177 

*'  Mr.  Lincoln,  I  do  not  understand  you  !  though 
it  seems  that  I  have  known  you  before  ;  I  cannot  tell 
when  and  where." 

The  young  man  approached  her  again.  A  sudden, 
joyful  thought  <l»rted  across  her  mind:  "Can  it  be 
possible  that  thia  is  Clint ' ' 

"Can  it  be  j>ossible  you  do  not  know  me?  Mr. 
Lincoln  is  itot  my  name ;  but  Clinton  Edward  For 
rest  !  " 

"  Clinton  !  my  dear  Brother  Clint!  "  cried  Elmina, 
holding  out  both  her  hands,  with  overflowing  eyes. 

He  drew  her  to  him,  and  tenderly  kissed  her  brow. 

"  You  are  unchanged,"  he  said,  studying  her  sweet 
face;  "only  grown  into  womanhood,  fulfilling  the 
rich  promise  of  childhood.  I  did  not  believe  that  you 
would  meet  me  in  coldness,  though  I  might  have  ar 
gued  so,  from  your  unbroken  silence." 

"  0,  Clinton.  I  have  much  to  explain  to  you  !  But 
first  let  me  assure  you  that  I  had  not  the  most  remote 
idea  tJiat  the  '  cousin  Ned  '  whom  I  have  heard  so 
much  about  and  the  adopted  brother  of  my  childhood 
were  identical." 

"What  could  my  uncle  have  been  thinking  of?" 
said  Clinton.  "I  wonder  he  did  not  know  at  once 
that  you  were  the  dear  little  Mina  Clement  whom  I 
have  so  often  described.  And  you  imagined  my  name 
was  Ned  Lincoln  ?  " 

"  Yes,  though  I  never  heard  any  one  call  you  any 
tiling  but  Ned.  Now  let  us  sit  down,  and  I  will  tell 
you  of  the  circumstances  which  have  caused  so  long 
and  complete  a  separation  between  us." 

They  sat  downxtogether,  as  free  from  restraint  and 
embarrassment  as  though  they  really  were  brother  and 
sister,  and  time  and  distance  had  never  separated  them. 

' '  You  remember,  Clinton,  that  my  aunt  Jane  ap 
peared  to  be  jealous  of  my  father's  regard  for  you  j 
12 


178  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

but,  0,  Clint !  you  do  not  know  —  you  have  not 
heard  of  —  of —  ;)  The  painful  recollection,  coming  so 
suddenly  upon  her  mind,  quite  overcame  her,  and  she 
hid  her  face  upon  the  shoulder  of  her  newly-found 
brother,  and  wept  silently. 

Clinton  half-guessed  the  cause  of  her  emotion. 
"Mina,  my  sweet  sister,  do  those  tears  tell  me  that 
your  good  father  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  sobbed. 

For  a  time  they  were  silent ;  and  then  Elmina 
raised  her  head,  with  restored  composure,  though  her 
voice  quivered  as  she  said,  "  I  cannot  tell  you  about 
him  now ;  some  other  time  I  will.  Now  I  must  tell 
you  of  the  fate  of  your  letters.  I  said  aunt  Jane 
was  jealous  of  you.  I  knew  it,  but  did  not  think  her 
capable  of  performing  such  acts  as  that  jealousy  ex 
cited  her  to  do.  Your  first  letter  gave  me  great 
pleasure,  and  I  answered  it  directly.  Aunt  Jane 
tried  to  convince  me  that  it  Avas  impvoper  for  me  to 
write  to  you ;  but  I  persisted,  and,  to  my  surprise,  she 
amiably  offered  to  send  James  with  it  to  the  office. 
When  I  received  your  second  letter.  I  was  ill  with  a 
headache  ;  but  I  was  so  much  grieved  that  you  had 
not  heard  from  me,  that  I  wrote  a  hasty  note,  and 
intrusted  it  to  my  cousin  James.  He  told  me,  at 
night,  that  he  had  delivered  it  safely  into  the  post 
master's  hands.  After  a  while  I  grew  impatient  that 
you  did  not  write  again,  and  father  was  as  anxious  as 
I.  Frank  inquired  for  you  in  all  his  letters.  *Aunt 
Jane  said  some  disagreeable  things  to  father,  about 
your  having  found  better  friends,  and  called  you  un 
grateful.  For  a  time  father  was  very  unhappy  about 
it.  and  I  was  sadly  grieved.  Dora  and  I  talked  much 
about  you, — always  wondering  and  mourning  over 
your  unaccountable  silence.  After  several  months, 
by  accident  I  found,  in  one  of  aunt's  drawers,  one 


WELCOME   HOME.  179 

of  my  letters  to  you.  At  first  aunt  Jane  tried  to 
excuse  it  away ;  but  my  suspicions  were  aroused,  and  I 
insisted  upon  an  explanation.  Then  she  angrily  ac 
knowledged  that  she  had  burned  my  previous  letter, 
and  concealed  this,  with  the  intention  of  destroying 
all  communication  between  yourself  and  our  family." 

Clinton's  eye  and  cheek  were  glowing  with  the 
fire  of  indignation.  "  Wicked,  unfeeling  woman  !  " 
he  cried.  "Alas,  how  well  she  succeeded- in  her 
scheme  !  I  thought  you  cared  no  longer  for  me,  and 
mourned  almost  as  sadly  as  though  death  had  divided 
us.  And  you  and  your  father  must  have  felt  injured 
and  grieved  at  my  apparent  ingratitude.  What  did 
your  father  do,  Elmina  ?  He  did  not  let  her  stay  in 
his  house  any  longer,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Clint !  "  said  Elmina,  "  I  should  have  known 
you  anywhere,  looking  and  speaking  as  you  do  now ; 
just  as  I  have  seen  you  look  a  hundred  times,  when 
your  spirit  was  roused  by  the  injustice  of  another." 

Clinton  smiled,  a  little  deprecatingly,  as  he  said, 
"You  will  find  that  I  am  the  same  impulsive  Clint 
whom,  in  the  days  past,  you  so  often  curbed  with 
your  gentle,  restraining  voice :  though  I  hope  more 
reason  and  moderation  temper  my  spirit.  I  suppose 
you  forgave  your  aunt  Jane,  even  before  she  asked 
pardon,  and  coaxed  your  father  to  forgive  her,  also." 

"  Nay,  it  was  very  hard  for  me  to  forgive  her  ;  but 
I  feared  to  tell  my  father,  for  I  knew  he  could  never 
overlook  such  duplicity  in  a  member  of  his  family ; 
so.  rather  than  have  her  turned  in  disgrace  from  the 
house,  I  concealed  the  facts  from  him.  I  confided 
my  grievances  to  Josie  Lee ;  and  you  know  I  could 
not  find  a  better  or  truer  friend." 

"  But  I  wrote  to  Josephine,  too.  Did  the  same 
fate  attend  her  letter?  " 

"  It  was  in  vacation,  and  she  was  off  on  a  journey, 


180  THE   HAKVEST   OF  LOVE. 

at  the  time  it  arrived.  When  she  received  the  letter, 
it  was  too  late  to  address  you  as  directed.  We  both 
hoped  and  expected  you  would  write  again,  that  we 
might  have  same  clue  to  your  whereabouts.  Josie 
often  shed  tears  when  talking  of  her  absent  little 
brother,  as  she  ever  called  you.:; 

"  I  see  that  I  was  wrong,  very  wrong,  to  let  my 
proud  spirit  rule  me  then,"  said  Clinton,  sorrowfully; 
"but  1  thought  the  poor  orphan  boy  was  no  longer 
cared  for,  and  I  could  not  force  myself  upon  the  notice 
even  of  those  so  dearly  loved,  merely  because  they 
had  befriended  my  desolate  childhood.  But,  in  my 
hastiness,  I  wronged  you  all ;  and  the  punishment  it 
brought  was  severe  enough  to  expiate  the  sin." 

"Do  not  reproach  yourself.'  said  Elmina,  "for 
we  never  dreamed  of  blaming  you,  after  we  knew  you 
had  not  received  one  word  from  your  Oakville  friends. 
When  Frank  came  home,  out  of  justice  to  you,  we 
showed  Josie's  letter  to  him.  which  stated  that  you 
had  heard  nothing  from  me  ;  but  I  never  told  him  of 
the  part  my  aunt  had  acted,  for  I  knew  the  house 
could  not  bold  them  both,  after  that.  I  am  so  happy 
to  know,  Clinton,  that  you  have  found  this  good 
home,  and  such  a  noble  guardian  as  uncle  Ike.  Pray 
tell  me  how  you  discovered  your  relatives." 

In  rapid  language,  Clinton  told  of  the  circum 
stances  which  placed  him  in  Philadelphia  ;  of  his  rup 
ture  with  Mr.  Gay.  his  employer,  and  the  opportune 
meeting  with  uncle  Ike.  His  listener's  face  was 
beaming  with  pleasure,  as  he  concluded  his  brief,  but 
interesting  narrative. 

"  And  you  have  lived  in  plenty,  and  had  every  op 
portunity  for  intellectual  culture?  " 

"  Yea,  Elmina,  everything  to  make  me  happy,  but 
the  knowledge  that  I  was  kindly  remembered  by  my 
childhood's  friends.  My  uncles  both  treat  me  as  a 


WELCOME   HOME.  181 

favored  son  ;  uncle  Ike  Jong  since  declared  ine  to  be 
his  adopted  son  and  heir,  and  his  wealth  and  love 
have  been  lavished  unsparingly  upon  me." 

"  0,  Clint,  how  happy  this  knowledge  makes  me ! 
I  never  dreamed  that  the  poor,  unfortunate  Clint  For 
rest,  whom  I  so  pitied  in  my  childish  days,  would  find 
such  proud  and  wealthy  relatives." 

"  No,  dear  sister,  — 1  do  love  to  call  you  so,  —  it  was 
my  wretched  condition  which  interested  your  tender 
little  heart  for  me.  Whatever  ethers  may  have  done 
for  me,  you  deserve  my  first  and  deepest  gratitude." 

Her  hand  lay  in  his,  and  her  tear- wet  eyes  beamed 
affectionately  upon  him. 

"  Ned,  Elmka,  what  does  this  mean  !  "  said  uncle 
Ike,  standing  gravely  before  them.  "  Is  not  this  un 
warrantable  familiarity  for  a  young  gentleman  and 
lady  holding  their  first  tete-a-tete.  Elmina,  I  thought 
you  were  very  maidenly  and  reserved ;  here  I  find 
you  talking  with  my  nephew,  who  is  an  entire  stranger 
to  you,  as  though  he  were  your  brother,  lover  —  I 
might  say." 

With  a  varying  cheek,  Elmina  rose,  and  said, 
' '  When  you  bade  me  call  you  uncle,  I  did  not 
imagine  you  had  so  good  a  claim  to  the  title.  I  have 
found  in  your  nephew  the  adopted  brother  of  my 
childhood." 

"What  —  how  is  this?"  said  uncle  Ike,  the  as 
sumed  sternness  of  his  countenance  gradually  relaxing 
into  a  smile. 

"  Uncle  Ike,  you  cannot  deceive  me  !  "  exclaimed 
Clinton.  "  I  read  it  in  your  eyes  ;  — you  know  this  is 
the  same  Mina  Clement  who  was  a  good  angel  to  your 
orphan  nephew." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  suppose  I  must  own  up.  Bless  you, 
Elmina,  for  your  loving  heart !  "  cried  uncle  Ike, 
laughing,  and  almost  crying. 


182  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

"Why  did  you  not  tell  her  who  I  was?"  said 
Clinton.  "  It  would  have  made  her  happier,  could  she 
have  known  that  I  was  your  fortunate  nephew." 

"You  see,  Ned,  I  was  always  angry  with  those 
Oakville  folks,  in  spite  of  my  gratitude,  for  dropping 
you  so  suddenly.  So,  when  I  discovered  that  Lucy'a 
niece  was  the  darling  little  Mina  you  have  so  often 
eulogized  (which  was  immediately  after  she  came 
here),  I  thought  to  punish  her  a  little  for  so  cruelly 
neglecting  you.  I  persuaded  brother  George  to  say 
nothing  which  would  give  her  any  idea  as  to  who 
'  cousin  Ned  '  was ;  and  as  Lucy  had  no  suspicions,  it 
was  easy  getting  along  with  it.  But  when  I  learned 
to  know  you,  dear  Mina."  he  continued,  looking  fond 
ly  upon  the  happy  girl,  "I  was  sure  you  were  inno 
cent  of  any  unkindness  to  Ned,  and  that  you  could 
make  a  satisfactory  explanation.  Still  I  persisted  in 
the  harmless  deception,  for  I  wanted  to  see  how  soon 
you  would  recognize  each  other." 

"  I  thank  you  for  believing  that  I  did  not  wilfully 
neglect  Clinton.'''  said  Elmina;  "for  I  assure  you  I 
was  as  much  affected  as  himself,  when  I  found  that, 
through  the  ill-will  of  another,  all  my  letters  to  him 
had  been  detained." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,  my  dear;  and 
it 's  a  fact,  I  've  been  sorely  tempted,  many  a  time,  to 
thank  you  for  your  goodness  to  little  Clint,  and  to 
ask  about  that  good  Josephine  Lee." 

"  I  am  almost  bewildered,  trying  to  think  how  all 
this  came  about,"  said  Elmina.  "How  could  the 
child  of  your  sister  be  left  to  struggle  with  poverty, 
and  without  friends  ?  " 

"It  is  a  long,  sad  story,"  said  Clinton.  "Uncle 
Ike.  will  you  not  tell  her  about  my  unfortunate 
mother?" 

"  Certainly,  she  has  a  right  to  demand  an  explana- 


WELCOME   HOME.  183 

tion.  Let  us  sit  down  here  together,  and  I  will  tell 
the  story  in  the  fewest  words.  You  must  know,  El- 
inina,  that  my  father  was  a  very  wealthy  and  aristo 
cratic  man,  proud  as  Lucifer,  and  unbending  in  his 
will.  My  mother  Avas  his  opposite  in  every  respect ; 
gentle  and  timid,  almost  to  a  fault.  George.  Annie, 
and  I,  were  the  only  children.  Annie  was  very  un 
like  George  or  myself:  her  hair  was  black  as  midnight, 
and  her  eyes  dark  and  lustrous  ;  her  form  was  superb, 
and  she  had  the  daintiest  hand  and  foot.  She  knew 
that  she  was  very  beautiful,  but  she  ever  seemed  in 
different  to  the  admiration  her  beauty  excited.  She 
inherited  her  father's  passionate  temper  and  indomita 
ble  will,  and  possessed  her  mother's  confiding,  affec 
tionate  disposition.  How  we  loved  and  worshipped 
our  beautiful  Annie  !  From  her  infancy,  father  never 
denied  her  a  single  wish,  and  our  mother's  very  life 
was  bound  up  in  hers.  George  watched  over  her 
with  fond  pride,  and  I,  her  younger  brother,  looked 
up  to  her  as  the  very  embodiment  of  beauty  and 
goodness.  She  had  the  most  engaging  ways  !  —  I  see 
her  now,  with  her  fascinating  smile  ! 

•'  At  school  she  formed  the  acquaintance  of  a 
young  man  named  Clinton  Forrest.  He  was  an  or 
phan,  and  poor ;  yet,  in  spite  of  all  obstacles,  he  was 
determined  to  acquire  a  classical  education,  and  fit 
himself  for  a  lawyer.  This  young  man  and  my  sister 
loved  each  other.  My  father  did  not  appreciate  the 
manly  worth  of  Forrest's  character,  but  felt  outraged 
that  a  poor  boy  should  aspire  to  the  hand  of  his 
daughter.  He  treated  him  with  insult,  and  com 
manded  Annie  to  see  him  no  more.  He  then  intro 
duced  her  to  a  wealthy  and  aristocratic  gentleman, 
with  a  strong  hint  to  encourage  his  addresses. 

"  In  vain  did  Annie  plead  the  cause  of  her  lover  ; 
in  vain  did  she  entreat  our  father  to  permit  her  to 


184  THE   HARVEST   OF    LOVE. 

wait  a  few  years,  in  the  hope  that  Forrest  would  win 
his  good  will,  for  he  angrily  forbade  her  to  mention 
his  name  again. 

"  Annie  could  not  bear  this  injastice.  She  was  too 
proud — too  like  our  father.  She  suddenly  disappeared 
from  our  home,  leaving  no  trace  by  which  we  could 
ever  find  her.  In  the  brief  note  of  farewell,  which 
was  found  upon  her  table,  she  stated  that  young  For 
rest  had  given  up  studying  for  his  profession ;  that 
they  were  to  be  married,  and  then  seek  some  obscure 
place,  where  they  hoped  to  make  a  happy,  though 
humble,  home. 

"  Our  parents  were  filled  with  grief  and  dismay, 
and  made  strict  but  unavailing  search  for  her. 
Our  dear,  broken-hearted  mother  died  soon  after,  and 
father  lived  until  old  age,  a  changed  and  sorrowing 
man." 


AN   OLD   FRIEND   APPEARS   UPON   THE   STAGE. 

IT  is  a  small  back  chamber,  meagrely  furnished  ; 
and  yet  there  is  an  air  of  refinement  in  the  disposal 
of  the  few  articles  of  furniture.  In  one  corner  stands 
a  table,  with  a  handsome  portable  writing-desk  upon 
it,  and  a  few  well-bound  books ;  proof  that  the  higher 
faculties  of  the  mind  are  not  forgotten  in  the  midst 
of  wearisome  labor  for  brea-d  and  raiment. 

In  a  low  chair,  by  the  window,  is  a  pale,  high- 
browed  woman,  sewing  rapidly  by  the  fading  light. 
She  is  youthful  still,  though  there  are  lines  of  care 
and  grief  upon  her  sweet  face,  which  make  the  quiet 
cheerfulness  overspreading  it  very  touching. 

At  her  feet,  playing  with  some  wooden  blocks,  are 
two  children,  apparently  three  and  four  years  old. 
"  Josie,"  said  the  mother,  at  length,  when  the  heavy 
twilight  caused  her  to  drop  the  bit  of  steel  which  she 
had  been  plying  far  many  successive  hours,  "  Josie, 
you  may  draw  out  the  trundle-bed  new ;  it  -is  time  for 
you  and  little  Willie  to  go  to  sleep." 

That  clear,  sweet  voice — that  cheerful  smile  — 
they  are  not  unfamiliar  to  us.  We  recognize  Jo 
sephine  Lee,  the  happy-tempered  girl  we  so  loved  in 
the  days  of  yore.  Alas  !  she  is  a  widow  ;  and  her  own 
slender  fingers  are  the  sole  support  of  herself  and 
little  ones. 

U85) 


186  THE  HARVEST  OF  LOVK 

God  help  the  widow  and  the  fatherless  !  brighter 
with  sunbeams, of  hope  their  shadowy  pathway! 

Josephine  listened  to  the  evening  prayers  of  the 
little  ones ;  for  a  moment  she  bent  over  them  in  silent 
supplication,  and  then  resumed  her  work  by  the  flick 
ering  light  of  a  single  candle.  She  had  spent  a  week 
of  incessant  labor  upon  an  elegant  erening  dress,  and 
now  a  few  stitches  would  complete-  it. 

She  rose,  in  answer  to  an  imperative  knock,  and  ad 
mitted  a  young  lady  dressed  with  exceeding  richness. 
Josephine  politely  offered  her  a  seat,  assuring  her  that 
her  dress  would  be  finished  in  ive  minutes,  if  she 
would  have  the  goodness  to  wait.  The  kdy  seated 
herself  with  a  contemptuous  glance  at  the  bare  floor, 
and  one  of  cold  surprise  upon  the  sleeping  children. 
There  was  a  chilling  silence,  broken  only  by  the  little 
click  of  thimbfe  and  needle.  The  humble  Josephine 
could  not  address  the  proud  >ady  before  her,  and  the 
lady  herself  would  hare  laughed  at  the  idea  of 
speaking  more  than  was  necessary  to  a  poor  seam 
stress. 

When  Josephine  arose,  saying  her  task  was  done, 
the  lady  inquired  the  price  of  her  werk. 

"  Three  dollars." 

"Is  not  that  high  merely  for  making  a  dress ?'r 
said  the  young  lady,  taking  out  a  tasselled  purse. 

"  I  think  not,  Miss  Fay,"  said  Josephine,  gently. 
"  I  have  worked  upon  it  a  whole  week,  and  sat  up 
very  late  some  nights.  It  took  me  a  long  time  to 
embroider  the  sleeves  and  bosom.  I  hope  it  pleases 
you,"  she  continued,  displaying  the  beautiful  work. 

"  I  have  no  fault  to-  find  with  it.  ,  I  have  no  small 
bills ;  can  you  change  a  ten  ?  " 

Josephine  could  not;  she  had  but  a  dollar  in  the 
world,  and  that  she  owed  the  baker.  She  shook  her 
head  negatively. 


AN   OLD   FRIEND   ON   THE  STAGE.  187 

"  ft  is  just  as  well,"  said  the  lady,  returning  the 
bills  to  her  purse.  ' '  I  shall  have  some  more  work 
for  you  soon,  and  can  pay  it  all  together."  With  a 
slight  inclination  of  her  head,  she  turned  away,  fol 
lowed  by  her  servant,  who  carried  the  box  containing 
her  elegant  dress  to  the  carriage. 

Josephine  stood  like  one  stupefied,  then  sank  into  a 
chair,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  as  if  to  shut 
out  the  appalling  vision  which  rose  before  her. 

For  many  months  she  had  maintained  her  family 
by  work  received  from  an  extensive  ready-made  cloth 
ing  establishment.  But  the  pay  was  so  scanty,  that 
she  had  undertaken  this  fine  work  as  an  experiment, 
hoping  to  receive  better  remuneration.  Now  the 
experiment  had  been  tried,  and  proved  a  failure. 

What  wonder  her  spirit  fainted  by  the  way,  or  that 
she  wept  sadly,  almost  despairingly,  over  her  uncon 
scious  children? 

"  Mina,  I  have  a  most  philanthropic  plan  in  my 
head,"  said  Clinton,  one  morning  after  breakfast, 
' '  and  I  want  your  assistance.  Uncle  Ike  has  a  block 
of  dwelling-houses  building  on  A  street.  It  is 
going  to  be  finished  plainly,  but  neatly,  and  the  loca 
tion  is  healthy.  I  have  begged  the  privilege  of 
finding  tenants  for  him;  and  when  I  told  him  I  meant 
to  fill  the  building  with  those  who  needed  good  homes, 
he  said  he  supposed  he  must  humor  me,  even  if  it 
would  be  at  the  expense  of  his  pocket.  I  have 
already  found  three  poor  but  respectable  families, 
who  are  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  living  in  a 
comfortable  tenement,  and  not  being  obliged  to  pay 
an  exorbitant  jJrice.  I  suppose  you  know,  Elmina, 
that  there  are  hundreds  of  poor  women  and  young 
girls  in  this  city,  wearing  their  lives  away  by  sewing, 
night  as  well  as  day,  for  a  mere  pittance.  Many  an 


188  THE  HARVEST  OF  LOVE. 

innocent  seamstress  is  obliged  to  live  among  low  peo 
ple,  merely  because  she  cannot  afford  to  pay  for 
respectable  lodgings.  Now,  my  plan  is,  for  you  to 
help  me  find  enough  deserving  needle-women  to  oc 
cupy  the  remainder  of  the  block  ;  then  I  shall  depend 
upon  you  and  Lauretta  and  aunt  Lucy  to  supply 
them  with  work  at  fair  prices.  Come.  Lauretta,  will 
you  go  with  us  ?  we  may.  find  amusement,  if  we  can 
do  no  good." 

"  Impossible,"  said  Lauretta,  repressing  an  excla 
mation  of  disgust.  ' '  I  could  not  endure  to  go  into 
dirty  lanes  and  gloomy  houses ;  and  of  course  you 
cannot  find  your  poor  seamstresses  without  going 
into  such  places.  And  as  for  the  amusement,  I 
should  call  it  very  questionable." 

"  Elmina  will  not  disappoint  me,  I  am  sure,"  said 
Clinton. 

"  Certainly  not ;  I  am  charmed  with  your  benevo 
lent  plan,"  said  Elmina,  as  she  tripped  away  to  get 
her  bonnet  and  shawl. 

After  they  were  gone,  Lauretta  threw  herself  lan 
guidly  upon  the  sofa,  a  frown  of  dissatisfaction 
disfiguring  her  smooth  brow. 

"  Does  your  head  ache?  "  sweetly  inquired  Bertie, 
who  stood  near. 

"  No,"  said  Lauretta,  drawing  the  little  fellow 
towards  her.  ' '  I  Avas  thinking  how  strange  it  is 
that  no  one  loves  me  any,  since  Elmina  has  come 
here." 

"Not  love  you  any!"  repeated  Bertie;  "lam 
sure  I  love  you  better  than  before.  I  love  everybody 
more  than  I  did  before  dear  cousin  Mina  came.  And 
now  cousin  Clint  has  come.  I  am  so  happy  !  Don't 
you  think  Clinton  is  a  prettier  name  than  Ned  ? 
Mamma  says  Clinton  sounds  pleasantest  to  her 
because  Mina  calls  him  so." 


AN    OLD    FRIEND    ON    THE    STAGE.  189 

"  What  is  the  reason  you  all  love  Elmina  so 
much?  " 

"  0,  because  she  is  so  good." 

"  Then  you  think  her  very  good  ?  "  said  Lauretta, 
peevishly.  "It  is  strange  that  I  never  have  dis 
covered  it." 

0,  fie,  Lauretta !  thus  to  expose  your  jealousy 
to  pure-hearted  Bertie.  The  little  one  raised  his 
heavenly  blue  eyes  to  her  face  in  surprise,  and  then 
walked  slowly  away,  Avith  a  grave,  sorrowful  expres 
sion,  as  though  he  were  wounded  at  her  words. 

Tears  came  to  Lauretta's  eyes.  "  I  have  frightened 
angel  Bertie  away  from  me.  0,  it  must  be  that  I 
am  indeed  unlovely  !  " 

Clinton  and  Elmina  succeeded  beyond  their  expect 
ations,  and  were  every  moment  growing  still  better 
pleased  with  their  somewhat  novel  expedition.  A 
child  met  them  on  the  pave,  dressed  in  coarse  but  clean 
clothes.  There  was  an  air  of  native  grace  about  the 
little  one,  which  prompted  Elmina  to  stop  her  with  a 
kiss.  "  What  is  your  name,  sis?  " 

"Josephine  Lee  Emery,"  was  the  reply,  in  the 
quick,  lisping  accents  of  childhood. 

"  Is  not  her  countenance  familiar  to  you,  Clinton?" 

' '  It  is,  indeed.  Can  it  be  possible  that  this  is  the 
child  of  Josie  Lee,  our  dear  elder  sister  ?  " 

"I  think  it  must  be,  Clint;  for  her  husbands 
name  was  Emery,  and  this  child  resembles  her 
greatly." 

"Where  do  you  live,  little  Josephine?"  said 
Clinton.  "Far  from  here?" 

"  Only  a  little  way  down  that  street,"  answered 
the  child,  pointing  with  her  dimpled  finger.  "  Do 
you  know  my  mamma  ?  I  wish  you  would  go  and 
see  her,  for  she  is  sorry  to-day." 


190  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

"We  will  go  with  you,  sweet  child,"  said  Elrnina, 
"  and  perhaps  we  shall  make  your  mother  glad." 

Filled  with  joyful  expectation,  they  were  led  by 
Josie  to  her  mother's  door.  One  glance  at  Josephine 
Emery's  worn  but  still:  beautiful  face  was  enough  to 
assure  them  that  they  had  found  the  beloved  friend 
of  their  childhood.  As  she  did  not  recognize  them, 
they  passed  in  as  strangers.  Clinton  made  known 
their  mission  in  the  same  manner  he  had  done  to  the 
other  poor  women  with  whom  they  had  conversed. 

"Your  plan  is  a  noble  one."  said  Josephine.  "  I 
cannot  sufficiently  thank  you  for  your  kindness,  for 
you  have  come  to  me  in  my  greatest  need.  I  can 
find  no  work  which  will  bring  me  a  fair  reward." 

"  0,  Clint,"  cried  Elmina.  unable  longer  to  restrain 
herself,  "  we  have  found  Josie  Lee  in  the  midst  of 
want  and  privation  !  " 

Josephine  started  forward,  looking  earnestly  from 
one  to  the  other;  then,  in  joyful  recognition,  she 
exclaimed,  "  Clinton  !  Elmina  !  is  it  possible  I  behold 
you  both  again  ? ' ' 

We  will  not  attempt  a  description  of  this  happy 
meeting,  or  the  long  explanations,  which,  though 
interesting  to  themselves,  would  be  tedious  to  the 
reader.  Suffice  it  to  say,  they  spent  a  joyful  hour, 
and  the  rose-color  again  glowed  on  Josephine's  cheek, 
and  happiness  sparkled  in  her  eye. 

As  they  were  leaving.  Elmina  gave  the  little  Josie 
a  golden  eagle,  with  the  playful  remark  that  it  was 
for  her  mother's  looks  which  she  wore. 

Clinton  would  not  have  Willie  slighted,  and  placed 
a  similar  coin  in  his  chubby  hand.  Josephine  under 
stood  their  delicate  kindness,  and  thanked  them,  in 
her  overflowing  heart,  in  silence. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

THE    BROKEN   IDOL. 

8  Wert  weary,  gentle  dove,  of  this  cold  world  ? 
And  didst  thou  long  to  rest  thy  little  pinions 
Far  in  those  bright  and  beautiful  dominions 
Where  they  at  last  are  furled  ? 

Wert  homesick,  darling  ?     Could  thy  little  heart 
Yearn  for  a  love  more  tender  than  we  bore  thee  ? 
Yearn  for  a  watch  more  fond  and  faithful  o'er  thee, 

That  thou  shouldst  hence  depart  ?  ' ' 

C.  M.  8. 

LUCY  had  returned  late  at  night  from  a  scene  of 
festivity.  Before  she  laid  aside  her  costly  dress,  or 
unclasped  the  jewels  decking  her  graceful  person,  she 
glided  with  soft  foot-fall  to  the  nursery.  It  was  the 
instinct  of  her  motherly  tenderness  which  made  her 
yearn  to  look  upon  her  children  before  she  slept. 

Helen  and  Grace  lay  side  by  side,  folded  gently  in 
slumber's  embrace,  beautiful  models  of  health  and 
innocence.  The  young  mother  kissed  each  white 
brow  with  irrepressible  fondness,  then  turned  to 
Bertie's  bedside.  Why  does  her  cheek  pale,  and  her 
breath  come  quickly,  as  she  bends  over  the  sleep 
ing  cherub?  Bertie's  face  is  flushed  with  crimson, 
and  the  blue  veins  in  his  temples  rise  and  fall  with 
fearful  quickness ;  the  little  arms  are  tossed  restlessly 
above  his  head,  and,  'mid  his  labored  breathing,  he 
murmurs  incoherently.  For  a  moment  Lucy  gazes 
upon  him,  and  thrn  seeks  her  husband  in  nervous  haste. 

(191) 


192  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

"  George,  come  into  the  nursery  quickly  !  I  fear 
Bertie  is  very  sick." 

"You  are  fanciful,  dear  Lucy,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln, 
playfully,  as  he  followed  his  wife.  But  one  glance  at 
Bertie  changed  his  unbelieving  smile  into  an  expres 
sion  of  alarm.  "You  are  right,  Lucy,"  he  said; 
"  he  appears  to  be  in  a  high  fever." 

"0,  send  for  the  doctor,  quickly ! "  cried  Lucy, 
clasping  her  hands. 

"  I  will  go  myself;  for  delay  might  be  dangerous." 

Lucy  impatiently  requested  her  maid,  Maggie,  to 
waken  Elmina,  and  ask  her  to  come  to  her  imme 
diately.  Elmina  needed  not  a  second  bidding.  Spring 
ing  lightly  from  her  bed,  she  threw  on  a  loose  wrap 
per,  and  hastened  to  the  nursery. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  " 

"He  seems  to  be  violently  attacked  with  fever; 
his  breath  is  almost  scorching,"  replied  Elmina.  a 
shade  of  anxiety  overspreading  her  face. 

Lucy  wrung  her  hands.  ''0  Bertie,  my  dearest, 
most  beautiful  child !  If  he  should  die !  Elmina, 
tell  me,  what  shall  I  do?" 

How  strangely  at  variance  was  her  gala  dress  with 
the  anguish  written  on  her  face,  and  her  half-frenzied 
words !  Her  unbound  hair  fell  wildly  over  the 
rich  folds  of  her  satin  bodice,  and  the  jewels  on  her 
arms  gleamed  fitfully  in  the  pale  light.  Elmina 
looked  at  her  with  a  strange  fear  chilling  her  heart : 
still  she  said,  with  gentle  composure,  "Dear  aunt 
Lucy,  try  and  calm  yourself.  The  doctor  will  be 
here  soon,  and  may  relieve  him  immediately.  I  will 
stay  with  Bertie  while  you  go  and  put  on  a  more 
suitable  dress." 

Lucy  followed  Maggie  to  her  dressing-room.  El- 
inina  bathed  Bertie's  burning  limbs  in  cool  water, 
and  bound  a  wet  linen  cloth  about  his  forehead 


THE   BROKEN   IDOL.  198 

"Wake  up,  darling,  and  drink  some  water,"  she  ten 
derly  pleaded;  but  he  only  moaned  and  tossed  fever 
ishly  from  side  to  side. 

Soon  the  physician  came,  but  his  skill  seemed 
baffled.  All  his  remedies,  all  the  efforts  of  agonized 
love,  failed  to  shake  off  the  stupor  which  bound  the 
senses  of  the  precious  one ;  and  quicker,  fiercer  still 
the  life-current  rushed  through  its  tiny  channels. 
When  the  morning  dawned  upon  their  tearful  vigils, 
the  doctor  left  them,  saying  there  was  no  hope. 
In  wild  delirium  little  Bertie  rolled  upon  his  downy 
pillow. 

0,  the  days  that  followed — days  of  hopeless  watch- 
ings,  and  long  nights  whose  agonized  hours  seemed 
endless !  Heavy  gloom  rested  upon  that  gay  and 
worldly  household.  Tripping  footsteps  and  light 
laughter  were  exchanged  for  the  muffled  tread  and 
broken  whispers.  Eyes  unused  to  weeping  were 
dimmed  with  grief-drops  now,  and  pale,  sad  faces 
haunted  the  stairway  and  entrance  to  Bertie's  cham 
ber. 

How  powerless  is  human  aid  when  death  broods 
over  a  beloved  one  !  How  powerless  is  human  sym 
pathy  when  such  waves  of  anguish  flood  the  soul ! 
Without  the  abiding  presence  of  the  blessed  Comforter 
in  the  stricken  heart,  there  is  indeed  no  hope,  and  all 
words  of  consolation  are  but  mockery. 

Though  the  hearts  that  so  idolized  the  little  Bertie 
were  generous,  and  filled  with  kindly  impulses,  th<;y 
were  undisciplined  and  thoughtless.  They  had  looked 
upon  religion  as  a  beautiful  thing,  to  be  praised  and 
revered,  but  they  had  no  realization  of  its  life-sustain 
ing  power.  It  had  no  hold  upon  their  affections,  for 
earthly  objects  and  pursuits  occupied  their  whole 
attention.  Now  their  idol  was  stricken  with  fearful 
disease:  the  arms  of  death  were  opened  to  receive 
18 


194  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

their  best  loved.  0,  how  wild  was  the  rebellion 
in  their  grief-wrought  hearts !  How  fearfully  love 
struggled  with  iron  necessity  ! 

In  all  Elmina's  trials  and  afflictions,  she  had  never 
been  entirely  left  a  prey  to  haunting  grief ;  for  early 
education  had  implanted  in  her  breast  a  living  Chris 
tian  faith.  She  was  inexpressibly  grieved  to  witness 
the  utter  despair  manifested  by  her  uncle  and  aunt, 
and,  in  fact,  by  the  whole  family.  She  alone  was 
serene  and  self-possessed.  She  constantly  attended 
upon  the  little  sufferer,  and  directed  the  whole 
arrangements  of  the  sick  room ;  for  poor  Lucy  ap 
peared  like  one  walking  in  a  dream,  and  was  com 
pletely  unfitted  for  the  least  care. 

In  all  the  wanderings  of  Bertie's  mind,  he  mur 
mured  of  beautiful  things.  —  of  birds  and  flowers,  of 
the  sweet  country,  —  and  often  the  names  of  his  best- 
loved  friends  were  upon  his  lips.  Not  until  the  morn 
ing  of  the  fifth  day  did  the  cloud  obscuring  his  mind 
pass  away.  Then,  after  an  hour's  slumber,  he  woke 
with  a  familiar  smile  upon  his  cherub  face,  and  the 
old  love-light  in  his  eye.  But  his  face  was  paler 
than  the  frosted  lily,  and  he  had  scarce  strength  to 
speak  above  a  whisper,  or  to  raise  his  tiny  hand. 

"Mamma,"  he  whispered.  "  I  am  better." 

Lucy  covered  him  with  kisses,  while  joyful  tears 
streamed  from  her  eyes.  Elmina,  too,  was  deceived, 
and  looked  up  at  the  doctor  with  a  hopeful  smile. 

The  doctor  looked  upon  the  child,  whose  spirits 
pinions  were  already  pluming  for  his  heavenward 
flight,  and  sadly  shook  his  head.  "  I  told  you  at  the 
first  there  was  no  hope,"  he  said,  "  and  it  would  be 
wrong  in  me  to  deceive  you  now.  Bertie  can  never 
see  another  sunrise." 

"  0,  doctor,  don't  say  so  !  he  must  bo  better.     See 


THE   BROKEN   IDOL.  195 

how  natural  he  looks ;  he  has  no  fever  now,  for  his 
hand  is  cool  and  moist." 

The  kind-hearted  physician  dashed  aside  a  tear.  He 
could  not  look  unmoved  upon  that  mother's  imploring 
face.  He  pointed  to  Bertie,  over  whose  brow  were 
already  stealing  the  shadows  of  death.  Lucy  had 
never  seen  death,  but  she  felt  instinctively  that  it  was 
present  now.  With  a  faint  cry,  she  hid  her  face  in 
the  bed-curtains. 

"  Good-by,  mamma  !  " 

"  "  Bertie,  why  do  you  say  'good-by'? — you  are  not 
going  to  leave  mamma  ! ' ' 

"Yes;  there  is  an  angel  coming  for  me.  There 
are  flowers  there,  mamma,  such  beautiful  flowers  !  " 

"  Bertie.  Bertie,  don't  talk  so  !  Are  you  not  here 
in  your  own  little  bed,  with  mamma  beside  you?" 

"I  shan't  be  sick  in  heaven,  mamma.  Mina  says 
angels  never  are  sick.  Good-by  ;  —  you  will  come, 
too,  some  time." 

A  rapt  smile  played  over  the  little,  wan  face,  the 
blue  eyes  closed,  and  he  slept,  breathing  gently. 
"  0.  I  cannot  see  him  die  !  "  cried  Lucy,  falling  into 
insensibility.  The  poor,  stricken  mother  was  carried 
away  from  the  death-bed  to  her  own  chamber. 

With  blanched  faces,  the  whole  family  gathered 
round  the  bedside.  When  those  little  eyes  unclosed 
again,  and  the  white  lips  parted  once  more,  every 
breath  was  suspended  to  catch  the  faintest  accents. 

"Dear,  dear  papa!"  murmured  the  boy.  as  he 
saw  his  father's  pale  face  bending  over  him.  The 
father  imprinted  one  long  last  kiss  upon  his  brow, 
and  turned  away  in  anguish.  Uncle  Ike  wrung 
his  brother's  hand,  and  cried,  "0,  my  God,  how 
gladly  would  I  give  my  wealth  to  add  a  few  days  to 
his  precious  life  !  " 

Lauretta  could  not  endure  the  scene,   and  went 


196  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

weeping  from  the  room.  Helen  and  Grace  broke  out 
into  loud  and  bitter  crying. 

"  Nellie,  Gracie,  don't  cry.  Mina  says  Jesus  loves 
little  children,  and  perhaps  he  will  want  you  to 
morrow,"  said  the  dying  child.  "  Please,  Mina,  take 
me  in  your  arms." 

Clinton  raised  him  from  the  pillow,  and  placed  him 
in  Elmina's  arms.  With  silent  awe  they  gazed  upon 
that  face,  where  death's  mysterious,  solemn  seal  was 
set.  "  Good-by,  two  dear  cousins,  I  love  so  well !  — 
There  are  flowers  there  !  " 

There  was  a  slight  quivering  through  that  tiny 
frame,  a  faint  sigh,  and,  painlessly,  the  spirit  parted 
from  the  beautiful  clay. 

"  Blessed  are  the  early  dead."  0,  Bertie,  thy 
life  was  one  beautiful  hour  of  love  and  happiness ! 
Now,  in  thy  unsullied  purity,  thou  art  transplanted 
to  celestial  gardens,  where  bloom  immortal  flowers. 
"  It  is  well  with  the  child ;  it  is  well." 

Methinks,  if  those  who  are  wailing  over  the  lovely 
temple,  so  lately  enshrining  the  spirit,  could  look 
upon  his  rapturous  flight  upward,  they  would  rejoice, 
and  say.  "  It  is  well !  " 

"  "Weep  not  for  him. —  he  was  too  pure 

For  such  a  world  as  this  ; 
No  breath  of  guilt  had  dared  to  mar 

His  spirit's  holiness. 
But,  sinless  as  the  golden  flowers 
That  yield  their  breath  in  tropic  bowers, 
Or  the  bright  gems  that  span  the  sky, 
His  few  but  joyous  years  went  by." 


CHAPTER   XX. 

COMFORT. 

Child-angel !     0,  a  mission  bright 

With  thy  sweet  life  has  ended  ; 
Sad  are  the  hearts  -which  thou  didst  light, 

And  with  thine  own  were  blended, 
0,  so  tenderly  ! 

"Do  not  bury  him  from  my  sight !  Spare  him  to 
me  a  little  longer  !  0,  Bertie,  Bertie,  shall  I  never 
hear  your  voice  again  ?  " 

Lucy  bent  over  the  little  coffined  form,  moaning  in 
tearless  anguish.  Very  beautiful  was  Bertie  in  death. 
The  flowers,  which  had  been  types  of  heaven  to  him, 
were  scattered  over  his  satin  pillow,  and  one  half- 
opened  bud  was  laid  upOH  his  pulseless  breast.  His 
long,  bright  hair  had  been  cut  away,  but  a  few  golden 
rings  lay  about  the  lovely  brow.  The  light  of  a 
heaven-born  smile  diffused  a  holy  serenity  over  every 
lineament  of  his  face. 

Beautiful,  but  soulless  clay  !  that  must  moulder 
back  to  its  native  element,  while  the  pure  spirit,  once 
animating  it,  expands  forever  in  the  eternal  light  of 
heaven.  It  is  not  Bertie  over  which  the  mother 
bends  in  frenzied  grief;  it  is  only  the  fair  garment 
which  he  wore  for  a  little  season,  and  has  now  thrown 
aside  for  one  more  perfect  and  enduring. 

But  Lucy  did  not  realize  this.  She  felt  that 

(197} 


198  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

• 

blackness  had  shut  out  the  sunlight -from  her  life- 
path,  and  the  cold  winds  of  desolation  swept  over  her 
sensitive  heart. 

The  religious  services  had  been  performed,  and  the 
attendants  were  ready  to  bear  away  the  dead ;  still 
Lucy  clung  to  the  coffin,  crying,  "  Let  me  have  him 
a  little  longer  !  I  cannot  spare  him  yet !  " 

Her  husband's  arm  supported  her,  but  his  own 
tears  fell  so  bitterly  that  his  influence  made  her  still 
weaker  and  more  unreconciled.  Elmina  stood  by 
them.  "Dear  aunt  Lucy,"  she  said,  beseechingly, 
"look  again  on  Bertie's  face.  See  the  holy  smile 
about  his  lips.  Think  upon  the  new  life  which  he 
has  entered.  You  know  that  he  is  happy  now." 

"  Yes,  he  is  happy,  to  be  sure ;  but  I  can't  feel  it 
—  I  can't  realize  it !  " 

"  Bertie  fully  realized  it.  His  last  words  were, 
'  There  are  flowers  there.'  He  was  so  glad  to  go, 
you  cannot  wish  him  here  again." 

"No.  I  ought  not  to  wish  him  back  again,"  said 
Lucy,  more  calmly,  and  with  a  changing  counte 
nance. 

"Perhaps  his  glorified  spirit  is  hovering  over  you 
now,  trying  to  comfort  you  with  the  assurance  that 
he  is  still  near  you.  and  loves  you." 

Lucy  looked  up  suddenly,  as  though  she  expected 
to  see  the  gleaming  of  angels'  wings  above  her  head. 
She  clasped  her  hands,  crying,  "  Bless  you,  Mina  ! 
your  words  are  coming  true  to  me  —  Bertie  is  here  !  " 
Once  more  she  embraced  the  little,  still  form,  saying, 
"  Carry  him  away  now,  for  I  feel  that  Bertie's  sweet 
spirit  is  with  me." 

The  star  of  resignation  had  pierced  through  the 
dark  woe  overshadowing  her,  and  soon  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  was  to  dissolve  into  sweet  hopes  every 
vestige  of  darkness  left. 


COMFORT.  199 

Grace  had  manifested  little  emotion,  for  she  could 
not  comprehend  the  mystery  of  death.  But  when 
they  returned  from  the  grave,  she  burst  into  passion 
ate  crying,  saying  that  they  had  hidden  Bertie  in 
the  ground,  and  she  should  never  see  him  again. 

Elmina  took  her  in  her  arms,  and  gently  stroked 
her  fair  hair,  whispering  soothing  words.  Her  touch 
was  magnetic  :  for  soon  the  child's  sobs  were  hushed; 
the  wet  lashes  rested  upon  her  cheeks,  and  her  soft, 
deep  breathing  proclaimed  that  her  grief  was  forgot 
ten  in  kindly  slumber. 

Elmina  thought,  as  she  gazed  upon  the  sleeping, 
child,  "0,  if  she  could  ever  thus  forget  her  griefs  in 
innocent  sleep  !  But  years  may  bring  sorrows  which 
slumber  cannot  heal,  arid  time  only  will  rob  of  their 
sharp  edge." 

Grace  awoke  with  a  smile,  so  like  that  which  had 
constituted  the  peculiar  beauty  of  Bertie's  face,  that 
Elmina  tightened  her  clasp  upon  her,  with  a  quick 
heart-throb  of  fear. 

"  0,  Miria,  such  a  dream  !  I  saw  Bertie  in  a 
beautiful  garden,  and  there  were  lots  of  little  children 
there.  I  thought  they  had  buried  him  up  in  the 
ground ;  but  I  shan't  cry  any  more,  if  he  is  in  such  a 
pretty  place." 

Bertie's  mantle  fell  upon  his  little  sister.  She 
grew  earnest,  thoughtful,  and  spiritually  minded ;  but 
her  buoyant  health  and  rapid  physical  growth  Averc 
equal  to  her  mental  development. 

At  night,  after  the  different  members  of  the  family 
had  retired  to  bed.  Elmina  sat  alone  in  the  parlor. 
Her  strong  spirit  had  supported  her  through  days  of 
watching  and  grief,  but  now  she  was  completely 
exhausted  and  unnerved.  She  felt  the  need  of  that 
very  comfort  which  she  had  given  to  her  afflicted 
friends. 


200  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

Those  who  have  felt  it  know  the  unspeakable  deso 
lation  resting  upon  the  house  from  which  the  dead 
have  just  been  borne.  The  startling  stillness  !  —  the 
waves  of  woe,  rolled  back,  leaving  in  the  heart 
an  aching  void,  more  dreadful  than  the  first  rude 
shock ! 

Elmina  felt  all  this  with  exquisite  pain,  and,  before 
she  was  conscious  of  it,  she  was  sobbing  aloud.  But 
a  moment  passed,  and  her  head  was  raised  and  placed 
upon  a  manly  breast,  and  Clinton's  voice  said  in  her 
ear,  "  Brave,  noble  Mina  !  I  did  not  half  know  you 
before.  I  do  not  wonder  you  are  weak  and  dispirited 
now,  after  all  your  exertions.  You  have  been  an 
angel  of  hope  and  consolation  to  this  desolated  house 
hold.  Comfort  yourself  with  the  thought  that  you 
have  acted  a  noble  part.  I  feel  that  little  Bertie:s 
death  will  not  be  in  vain,  for  already  my  own  heart  is 
lifted  upward,  and  God  and  heaven  seem  nearer." 

Not  in  vain  was  Bertie's  short  life  —  0,  not  in 
vain  was  his  untimely  death  !  What  holy  affections 
had  his  smile  and  voice  awakened  !  What  wealth  of 
hopes  and  tenderness  had  been  poured  upon  his 
head  !  Living,  he  had  bound  many  hearts  to  him 
in  deathless  love ;  and  dying,  he  had  drawn  upward 
those  hearts,  with  new  hopes  and  higher  aspirations. 

0,  when  Bertie  entered  heaven,  a  ray  of  its  eternal 
glory  fell  through  the  open  portal !  It  brightens  with 
a  holy  gleam  the  places  where  he  has  been,  and  nour 
ishes  in  the  mourners'  hearts  a  faith  born  of  God  ! 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

A    WANDERER    FOUND. 

JOSEPHINE  EMERY  did  not  remove  into  uncle 
Ike's  new  building,  for  that  benevolent  gentleman 
said  she  should  no  longer  toil  with  her  needle.  A 
suite  of  rooms  in  a  genteel  quarter  were  furnished  for 
her,  and  uncle  Ike's  influence  procured  for  her  a 
small  school,  from  wealthy  families.  Thus  she  was 
placed  above  want,  or  wearing  physical  labor. 

Josephine  was  happy  in  the  vocation  which  in  her 
girlish  days  had  been  so  congenial  to  her  tastes  and 
abilities.  She  entered  upon  her  duties  with  cheerful 
ardor,  and  soon  won  the  hearts  of  the  young  girls 
intrusted  to  her  charge. 

When  Lucy  had  recovered  in  a  measure  from  the 
stunning  effects  of  her  affliction,  she  called  upon  Jo 
sephine,  and  invited  her  to  dine  with  them  the  next 
day ;  for  she  was  resolved  to  cultivate  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  one  about  whom  she  had  heard  so 
many  favorable  reports.  Josephine  was  touched  by 
her  unaffected  cordiality,  and  accepted  the  invitation, 
knowing  it  would  be  very  gratifying  to  Clinton  and 
Elmina. 

Uncle  Ike  was  always  very  courteous  to  the  gentler 
sex,  and  on  this  occasion  he  treated  Josephine  with 
marked  attentions.  He  drew  her  into  conversation 
with  himself,  and  led  the  way  to  subjects  of  a  high 
order,  such  as  are  seldom  introduced  into  the  drawing- 

(201) 


202  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 


room.  Elmina  understood  that  he  wished  to  sound 
the  depths  of  her  mind,  as  well  as  to  learn  the  senti 
ments  of  her  heart ;  but  she  did  not  tremble  for  her 
friend,  as  she  felt  that  she  would  fully  stand  his  crit 
ical  test. 

When  Josephine  was  introduced  to  Lauretta,  she 
instantly  recognized  the  lady  for  whom  she  had  made 
the  rich  evening  dress  :  but  there  was  nothing  in  the 
unembarrassed  ease  with  which  she  saluted  her  which 
would  have  awakened  a  suspicion  that  they  had  ever 
met  before.  She  had  the  advantage  of  Lauretta,  for 
the  latter  was  mortified  and  confused. 

As  soon  as  she  could,  with  propriety,  the  proud 
girl  hurried  away  by  herself.  "How  mortifying!  '' 
she  exclaimed.  "  How  could  I  know  that  that  poor 
seamstress  would  turn  out  to  be  a  favorite  of  uncle 
Ike's  —  and  so  lady-like  and  well  educated  too!  It 
is  so  provoking  !  and  I  owe  her  three  dollars ;  but  I 
shall  never  dare  to  pay  her.  Dear  me,  if  uncle  Ike 
should  ever  find  it  out !  " 

Several  months  had  passed  peacefully  away.  Late 
one  afternoon,  Josephine  called  to  see  one  of  her 
pupils  who  had  been  detained  from  school  on  account 
of  sickness.  She  found  the  child  very  ill.  and  was 
induced  by  the  anxious  mother  to  remain  until  night. 

When  she  turned  her  steps  towards  home,  she  saw 
that  the  street  lamps  were  lighted.  Somewhat  startled, 
for  she  had  never  been  out  alone  in  the  evening  be 
fore,  she  passed  on  rapidly.  A  man  stepped  out  from 
an  alley  and  followed  her.  She  was  slightly  alarmed, 
for  the  aspect  of  the  man  was  not  prepossessing ;  his 
eyes  were  hidden  by  a  large,  slouching  hat,  and  the 
lower  part  of  his  face  was  covered  with  a  thick  growth 
of  beard.  She  crossed  the  street,  and  he  followed  a 
few  paces  behind.  Chiding  herself  for  her  foolish 


A   WANDERER   FOUND.  203 

nervousness,  she  stepped  one  side,  that  he  might  pass 
her ;  but,  to  her  great  alarm,  he  wheeled  round  before 
her,  and  grasped  her  arm,  rudely. 

The  light  of  a  lamp  fell  full  upon  Josephine's  pale 
and  agitated  face.  The  stranger  looked  upon  her  in 
tently  for  an  instant,  and  said,  in  a  hollow  voice,  "  I 
thought  it  was  you.  0,  Josephine  !  Josephine  !  " 

Seeing  her  alarm,  he  relaxed  his  hold  upon  her 
arm,  saying,  "  Josie  Lee,  you  see  before  you,  your 
long-lost,  miserable  brother  Gilbert." 

With  a  cry,  half  of  doubt,  half  of  amazement,  she 
looked  upon  the  wretched  being  claiming  to  be  her 
brother. 

"  You  don't  know  me,"  said  the  man,  wildly.  "  In 
deed,  I  am  your  brother  Gilbert,  and,  if  you  have  a 
home  in  the  city,  for  mercy's  sake  take  me  to  it 
quickly  !  I  am  a  poor,  .hunted,  houseless,  hungry 
wretch ! " 

"0.  my  brother!"  cried  Josephine,  weeping; 
"  thus  to  find  you,  after  such  a  long  separation  !  But 
come  with  me  to  my  home." 

In  silence  they  threaded  their  way,  until  they 
arrived  at  Josephine's  pleasant  home. 

"Am  I  safe  here,  Josie?  "  said  Gilbert,  peering 
suspiciously  around  the  little  parlor. 

Josephine,  who  perceived  that  he  was  slightly  in 
toxicated,  gently  assured  him  that  he  was  perfectly 
safe ;  then  she  hastened  to  prepare  him  supper,  with 
out  asking  any  questions. 

She  soon  appeared  in  the  parlor  again,  bearing  a 
waiter,  with  cold  merit,  bread,  and  hot  tea.  Gilbert 
swallowed  a  few  mouthfuls,  and -then  threw  himself 
heavily  upon  the  lounge. 

"  You  are  sick."  said  Josephine,  vainly  struggling 
with  her  emotion. 

"I   don't    know."    groaned    the   miserable   man; 


204  THE   HARVEST    OF  LOVE. 

"  I  've  not  had  an  instant's  rest  for  more  than  a  week. 
Let  me  sleep  now." 

The  grieving,  wondering  sister  placed  a  pillow 
beneath  his  head,  and  watched  him  while  he  fell  into  a 
deep  slumber.  Then  she  undressed  her  children, 
who  were  loudly  calling  for  her,  and  laid  them  in 
their  little  bed. 

Once  more  she  stood  by  her  brother.  0,  God  ! 
could  this  man,  with  the  traces  of  unbridled  passions 
engraven  deep  upon  his  face,  be  the  same  fair  boy 
whom  she  had  called  brother  in  childhood?  It 
seemed  impossible,  and  yet  her  heart  told  her  it  was 
so.  Now  she  remembered  only  his  good  qualities  ; 
his  affectionate  temper,  and  pleasant  ways.  Her  sis 
terly  love  spoke  eloquently  in  the  tears  which  fell 
thickly  upon  the  sick  man's  face. 

Through  what  varied  scenes  had  he  passed  since 
their  sad  parting  ?  What  errors  had  he  committed ; 
how  often  had  he  needed  his  sister's  influence  and 
love,  to  shield  him  from  temptation?  Had  he  com 
mitted  any  actual  crime,  or  were  indolence  and  ine 
briation  his  chief  faults?  These  and  many  like 
queries  crowded  Josephine's  mind,  as  she  watched 
over  her  fallen  brother. 

The  hours  of  that  night  seemed  endless  to  her,  as 
she  sat,  still  watching  by  his  side,  until  the  gray  dawn 
parted  the  curtain  of  night.  Towards  morning,  Gil 
bert  grew  restless  and  feverish.  He  moaned  in  his 
sleej .  and  would  often  cry  out.  as  if  in  fear  or  pain. 
When  he  awoke,  he  gazed  about,  vacantly.  Josio 
spoke  to  him. 

"  0,  I  remember  it  all  now!;'  he  said,  putting  his 
hand  to  his  head. 

Josephine  kindly  inquired  if  she  should  get  him 
either  medicine  or  food.  No ;  he  wanted  nothing. 
Suddenly,  he  started  up,  fearfully :  :<  Am  I  safe 


A   WANDERER   FOUND.  205 

here  ? "  he  said,  eagerly  ;  "can  I  stay  here,  free  from 
danger?" 

"  Certainly,  dear  brother,  replied  Josephine,  think 
ing  his  mind  wandered.  "I  have  a  pleasant  home, 
and  kind  friends,  who  will  rejoice  with  me  that  I  have 
recovered  my  lost  brother." 

"  Don't  tell  anybody  I  am  here ;  if  you  do,  I  must 
go  away."  He  tried  to  raise  himself  up,  but  fell 
back,  weakly,  upon  his  pillow. 

"  Gilbert,  you  are  very  sick  ;  let  me  call  a  doctor. 
I  will  do  everything  I  can  to  make  you  well  and 
happy  again." 

"I  won't  have  a  doctor;  and,  for  mercy's  sake, 
don't  let  anybody  know  I  am  here  !  I  wish  I  could 
get  up  and  go  away.  What  if  somebody  should  come 
in,  and  see  me  ?  Lock  the  door,  Josephine  quick  !  " 

Josephine  grew  sick  at  heart. 

' '  Lock  the  door,  I  say !  Do  fasten  the  door !  I 
can't  get  up  myself  and  do  it." 

She  felt,  now,  that  it  was  not  the  mere  wanderings 
of  a  disordered  mind  which  made  him  fearful.  Could 
it  be  the  goadings  of  a  guilty  conscience  ?  She  fast 
ened  the  door,  and  he  grew  calmer. 

Josephine  sat  down  by  the  couch,  and  took  one 
fevered  hand  in  hers.  "  Dear  Gilbert,"  she  said,  in 
pleading  tones,  "  tell  me  the  meaning  of  this.  Surely, 
you  are  not  afraid  to  confide  in  your  sister?" 

"  No,  Josie,  I  am  sure  I  can  trust  you.  You  were 
always  kind  and  forgiving  ;  but,  when  you  know  that 
I  am  a  guilty  wretch,  will  you  still  love  and  care 
for  me  ?  ' ' 

"  0,  Gilbert,  what  would  afiection  be  worth,  if  it 
could  not  live  through  danger,  and  even  disgrace?  I 
implore  you  to  tell  me  all,  without  reserve." 

The  poor  man  turned  his  head  away.     He  could 


206  THE  HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

not  repeat  his  story,  looking  upon  her  pure  face,  or 
in  the  light  of  her  tender  eye. 

It  was  a  sad  tale  of  error  and  misfortune,  which  he 
poured  into  his  sister's  ear.  He  told  of  his  first 
voyage,  so  long  and  crowded  with  misfortunes  ;  of  his 
unavailing  regrets  for  his  base  ingratitude  to  his  friends, 
and  of  his  wearing  home-sickness,  which  embittered 
every  moment.  It  was  five  years  before  he  again 
trod  America's  shores ;  and  then  he  learned,  for  the 
first  time,  that  father,  mother,  and  brother,  were  sleep 
ing  in  the  grave.  In  bitter,  remorseful  anguish  he 
wept  over  the  green  mounds  concealing  from  his  sight 
his  wronged,  but  ever-loving  parents.  The  pale, 
deathly  face  of  his  father  haunted  him,  and  he  felt 
that  that  father  had  gone  down  to  the  grave  mourn 
ing  for  him.  He  told  of  his  yearning  to  see  his  dear 
sister  then.  He  sought  her  out,  and  hung  around 
Oakville  several  days,  fearing,  longing,  and  still 
dreading,  to  make  himself  known  to  her.  He  told 
of  seeing  her  once,  surrounded  by  a  happy  group  of 
children,  and  he  drew  near  enough  to  hear  the  tones 
of  her  voice.  0,  how  he  longed  to  fall  at  her  feet, 
and  beg  for  her  love  and  forgiveness  !  But  she  passed 
him  by,  unconscious  of  his  presence.  Then  he  fell 
upon  the  ground  in  despair.  He  knew  that  she  was 
good  and  happy,  and  he  ungrateful  and  unworthy. 
He  had  ever  been  a  source  of  grief  and  anxiety  to 
her,  and  why  should  he  recall  to  her  mind  all  the  sor 
rows  of  the  past  by  intruding  himself  upon  her? 
lie  was  sorrowful,  even  penitent;  but  he  had  no  self- 
reliance,  no  strong  determination  to  reform.  And, 
feeling  as  he  did  that  he  could  never  become  worthy 
of  her  love,  he  resolved  to  let  her  continue  to  remain 
in  ignorance  of  his  existence. 

Again  he  embarked  on  a  long,  uncertain  voyage, 
caring  litth  whither  he  went  or  what  became  of  him. 


A   WANDERER   FOUND.  207 

At  last  he  grew  weary  of  his  wandering,  dissipated 
life,  and,  with  a  determinatioifto  become  a  better  man, 
he  engaged  himself  to  a  wholesale  flour-dealer  in  the 
city.  Gilbert  spoke  of  his  weak  struggle  against  his 
appetite  for  strong  drink.  But  for  that  he  might  have 
been  favored  and  respected  by  his  employer.  Now 
he  grew  restless  and  dissatisfied ;  he  thought  :f  he 
had  a  little  capital  he  might  set  up  business  for  him 
self  in  some  country  town.  He  confessed  how  this 
thought  came  again  and  again,  until  it  became  his 
strongest  desire.  He  dreamed  of  finding  money  in 
the  street,  and  from  that  starting  a  great  fortune. 
One  day  a  man  handed  him  a  roll  of  bank-bills  to  de 
liver  to  his  master.  His  first  impulse  was  to  take  the 
money  directly  to  the  owner ;  but  it  looked  so  tempt 
ing  in  his  hand  that  he  stopped  to  count  it.  "  Five 
hundred  dollars,"  he  said  to  himself:  "just  the  sum  I 
want."  His  evil  genius  whispered,  "  Take  it,  take 
it ;  "  and  he  weakly,  wickedly  yielded  to  her  fallacious 
promptings. 

He  knew  there  Avould  instantly  be  a  search  for  him, 
and  hid  himself  in  some  by-place,  thinking  discovery 
less  likely  than  if  he  left  the  city  for  the  open  country. 

Then  he  began  to  repent  of  his  wicked  deed.  0, 
how  heartily  he  wished  he  had 'delivered  the  money 
to  his  master  !  He  loathed  it ;  he  hated  it  now,  and 
still  he  must  conceal  it  about  his  person  for  fear  of 
detection.  For  more  than  a  week  he  had  wandered 
about  the  city,  stung  with  remorse,  and  writhing  in 
fear. 

Josephine  made  no  sound  or  motion  when  he  fin 
ished  his  story.  "You  are  horrified,  Josie,"  he  said. 
"  I  knew  you  would  be ;  but  God  is  my  witness  that 
I  never  committed  theft  before.  I  have  been  idle  and 
dissipated,  but  never  criminal,  only  in  deserting  my 
poor  dying  father.  But  now,  0,  now  I  am  ruined 


208  THE    HARVEST    OF    LOVE. 

forever !  There 's  no  use,  now,  for  me  to  try  to 
reform  !  " 

"  Gilbert,  dear  Gilbert,  there  is  hope  for  you  yet ! 
You  are  truly  repentant,  and  will  commence  a  better 
life  from  this  hour." 

"  God  in  heaven  knows  how  true  my  sorrow  is  ; 
how  I  detest  my  past  useless,  miserable  life.  But  it 
is  too  late ;  I  am  now  stained  with  a  crime." 

"You  have  not  spent  the  money,  brother:  and 
if  you  return  it,  humbly  begging  forgiveness,  I  am 
sure  that  Mr.  Jones  will  grant  it.  Then  you  will  be 
relieved,  and  will  expiate  your  error  by  your  future 
good  conduct." 

"  Josephine,  if  I  should  carry  back  the  money,  I 
should  be  in  jail  before  an  hour.  Mr.  Jones  is  a 
stern,  relentless  man.  Once  I  saw  him  from  one  of 
my  hiding-places,  and  I  heard  him  cursing  me  with 
cruel  oaths.  He  said  that  he  would  find  me,  and  I 
should  feel  the  whole  force  of  the  law.  I  heard  some 
one  say,  '  Perhaps  he  will  repent,  and  bring  the 
money  back.'  Jones  laughed  spitefully,  and  said 
that  no  repentance  would  suit  him  ;  nothing  short  of 
a  term  in  the  penitentiary  would  answer  the  purpose. 
0,  what  can  I  do  with  this  money,  Josephine  ?  Take 
it  from  my  sight —  it  burns  my  fingers." 

Gilbert  drew  from  his  breast-pocket  the  fatal  bills, 
and  handed  them  to  Josephine.  She  opened  a  drawer 
and  placed  the  money  safely  within  it,  weeping  si 
lently  ;  but,  when  she  turned  round  again,  her  tears 
were  supplanted  by  a  hopeful  smile. 

It  was  now  time  for  Josephine  to  prepare  for  her 
school ;  and,  as  Gilbert  was  much  exhausted  with  his 
long  conversation,  she  advised  him  to  try  and  sleep 
while  she  was  gone.  He  would  not  let  her  go  until 
she  promised  solemly  to  hide  the  fact  of  his  being 


A   WANDERER   FOUND. 


209 


there.     He  even  insisted  upon  her  locking  the  parlor- 
door  after  her,  and  taking  the  key  away. 

Poor  Josephine  performed  her  school  duties  in  an 
abstracted,  mechanical  manner,  and  >as  soon  as  possi 
ble  returned  to  her  unfortunate  brother.  She  found 
him  really  sick.  Exposure  and  anxiety  had  brought 
on  a  slow  fever.  She  begged  to  be  allowed  to  call  a 
physician;  but  his  morbid  fears  had  increased  so  that 
he  was  frantic  at  the  bare  mention  of  the  thing,  and 
she  could  only  soothe  him  with  repeated  promises  of 
concealment. 

14 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

LOVE.  —  HOPE   FOR  THE   FALLEN. 

UNCLE  IKE  desired  Clinton  to  go  on  a  business 
trip,  which  would  take  him  several  Aveeks  from  home, 
and  the  young  man,  happy  to  oblige  his  kind  relative, 
cheerfully  accepted  the  commission.  The  separation 
Avhich  he  anticipated  from  his  friends  was  so  short, 
that  he  made  his  adieus  lightly  and  gayly.  He 
laughingly  received  the  good-by  kisses  of  Helen  and 
Grace,  and  shook  hands  with  Lucy  and  Lauretta. 

But,  when  he  turned  to  Elmina,  an  exquisite  pain 
shot  through  his  heart.  He  did  not  press  his  lips  to 
her  pure  brow  with  brotherly  freedom,  as  had  been 
his  wont,  for  the  vague,  undefined  emotions  of  his 
breast  were  in  that  instant  revealed  to  him.  The -ex 
pression  of  his  eye  thrilled  Elmina  :  her  beautiful  lip 
trembled,  and  her  eyelids  dropped  until  their  silken 
fringes  rested  on  her  cheeks,  now  bathed  with  tints, 
brighter  than  Aurora's  blush.  No  farewell  words 
were  spoken,  •  but  one  mute  pressure  of  the  hand 
told  all  that  language  could  not.  They  were  no 
longer  brother  and  sister,  but  united  by  a  tie  infinitely 
more  precious. 

As  Clinton  was  borne  quickly  away  by  the  swift- 
winged  steam-horse,  a  strange  feeling  of  mingled  as 
surance  and  doubt  made  his  heart  turn  backward 
with  painful  yearnings.  He  felt  that  Elmina  A\as 

(210) 


LOVE.  —  HOPE    FOR   THE    FALLEN.  211 

his;  still  unsatisfied,  lie  longed  to  hear  the  blessed 
assurance  from  her  lips. 

When  Clinton  and  Elmina  met,  after  their  long 
separation,  which  had  brought  them  from  childhood 
to  the  first  years  of  their  maturity,  they  renewed 
their  intercourse  upon  the  old  platform  of  brotherly 
and  sisterly  affection.  No  false  timidity,  or  foolish 
trifling,  cast  a  shadow  upon  the  perfect  confidence 
existing  between  them ;  but  the  interchange  of  re 
fined  thought  and  feeling  daily  brightened  the  link 
uniting  them.  Unconsciously  a  kindred  germ,  exist 
ing  in  the  hearts  of  both,  took  root  in  the  deepest, 
iholiest  soil ;  and,  ere  they  were  aware,  young  love, 
gently  displacing  fraternal  affection,  bloomed  freshly 
and  purely  in  each  heart 

"Mina,  ceusinMina!"  cried  Helen,  with  playful 
impatience.  "  I  have  asked  you  twice  to  look  at  my 
drawing.  Have  I  shaded  t&is  castle  light,  and  will 
you  show  me  how  to  make  the  pretty  shadows  in  the 
water?" 

"Certainly,  my  dear ;  I  think  you  have  drawn  it 
very  nicely." 

"  But,  you  haven't  looked  at  it  yet,"  said  Helen, 
half  vexed;  "you  are  looking  straight  .at  that  little 
blue  flower  in  the  carpet." 

Grace  laughed  merrily.  u  I  guess  cousin  is  asleep 
with  her  eyes  wide  open,  for  she  don't  mind  a  word 
you  say." 

"  Asleep  !  "  Elmina  started,  with  a  foigti  color. 
"  No,  not  asleep,  only  thinking  very  busily.  Give 
ane  yo«r  pencil,  Nellie,  and  I  will  help  you." 
With  an  effort,  Elmina  threw  off  the  delicious  revery 
which  had  momentarily  stolen  all  her  faculties.  One 
glance  at  the  penci'lled  castle  on  Helen's  paper  dis 
solved  the  glittering  dream-castles  with  wliicli  fancy 


212  THE   HAKTEST   OF   LOVE. 

had  just  peopled  her  mental  world.  A  single  touch 
of  reality  sent  imagination  into  the  background, 
silent  and  abashed. 

When  the  children  had  finished  their  lessons  El- 
mina  endeavored  to  engage  her  mind  with  books  or 
work,  but  to  no  purpose.  A  sweet  unrest  possessed 
her.  A  length  she  threw  on  her  bonnet,  telling  her 
aunt  Lucj  that  she  would  go  and  spend  an  hour  with 
Josephine  Emery. 

She  rung  twice  before  Josephine's  little  maid  ap 
peared,  and  then  the  girl  seemed  to  hesitate  about 
admitting  her.  She  said  both  "  yes  "  and  "no"  to 
Elmina's  inquiry  as  to  whether  her  mistress  was  at 
home,  and  with  a  very  red  face  showed  her  into  the 
dining-room.  Little  Josie  and  Willie  were  playing 
together  very  sweetly.  Elmina  chatted  with  them  a 
moment,  and  then  asked  for  their  mamma.  Josie 
pointed  significantly  to  the  parlor-door,  which  was 
slightly  ajar.  A  feeble  voice  could  be  plainly  heard 
murmuring  confusedly  and  impatiently. 

Josephine  appeared  at  the  door.  Her  careworn  face 
lighted  with  a  smile  of  pleasure,  as  she  advanced 
quickly  and  grasped  Elmina's  hand. 

"  Dear  Josephine,  you  look  very  weary.  Whom  have 
you  here  that  is  sick  ? ' ' 

"My  poor  brother  Gilbert,  whose  sad  story  you 
have  often  heard.  He  came  here  day  before  yester 
day,  completely  prostrated  with  fever,  and  is  now 
seriously  sick.'; 

Ehnina's  face  expressed  her  sympathy;  but  she 
asked  none  of  the  questions  which  rose  to  her  mind, 
for  the  quivering  lip  and  glistening  eye  of  her  friend 
warned  her. 

"You  must  have  a  nurse,  Josie,  for  you  can't  keep 
school  and  take  care  of  a  sick  man  too.  I  have  half 
a  mind  to  chide  you  for  not  sending  for  me  to  help 


LOVE. HOPE  FOR  THE  FALLEN.      213 

* 

you,  as  well  as  to  rejoice  ia  the  recovery  of  jour 
long-lost  brother." 

"0,  Mina,  how  gladly  would  I  have  done  so  !  But 
Gilbert  has  committed  a  great  error,  and  is  fearful  of 
discovery.  He  is  perfectly  frenzied  at  the  thought  of 
my  sending  for  a  doctor,  and  has  made  me  promise, 
again  and  again,  to  conceal  his  presence  here.  But,  as 
you  heard  his  voice,  I  thought  it  was  but  justice  to 
myself  that  I  should  explain." 

Elrnina  k>oked  thoughtful  as  she  understood  the 
unpleasant  position  of  her  friend,  and  for  a  time  they 
sat  in  silence.  Elmiua  feared  Josephine  would  be 
come  ill  with  over-exertion,  and  at  length  persuaded 
her  to  lie  down  for  a  few  hours.  She  promised  to 
take  care  of  the  •  patient  until  night.  There  was  no 
difficulty  in  this  arrangement,  as  Gilbert  was  slightly 
delirious,  and  did  not  perceive  the  change. 

Elmina  now  made  it  a  point  to  spend  the  hours 
usually  devoted  to  recreation,  in  assisting  Josephine 
in  her  manifold  duties.  And  for  several  days  Gilbert 
knew  not  that  any  but  his  sister's  hand  administered 
the  healing  draught  or  bathed  his  burning  temples. 
One  morning  he  awoke  with  new  strength  in  all  his 
limbs,  and  coolness  in  every  vein.  He  had  a  dim, 
confused  recollection  of  hours  of  feverish  pain,  but 
knew  nothing  of  the  long  and  tender  watchings  by 
his  pillow.  He  saw  Josephine  dress  for  the  street, 
and  then  Ehnina's  radiant  face  supplied  the  place  of 
her  anxious  one  by  his  bedside. 

"  So  my  sister  has  betrayed  me  !  "  said  Gilbert,  in 
a  trembling  voice. 

Elmina  kindly  assured  him  to  the  contrary,  and 
that  his  secret  was  perfectly  safe  with  her.  He 
looked  relieved,  but  still  made  her  reiterate  again  her 
promise  of  secrecy.  When  he  had  become  accus 
tomed  to  her  presence;  she  read  a,  short  and  appro- 


21<4  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

priate  chapter  from  the  Bible.  The  holy  words  fell 
upon  a  contrite  heart,  and  the  low,  sweet  voice  which 
uttered  them  invested  them  with  strange  power.  His 
eyes  were  filled  with  tears  when  she  concluded,  and 
he  thanked  her  in  a  broken  voice.  She  had  gained 
his  whole  confidence,  and  on  the  morrow  he  was 
strong  enough  to  confess  to  her  the  story  of  his  errors. 
Like  Josephine,  she  spoke  hopefully,  even  confidently, 
of  his  future  course.  She  assured  him  that  the  past 
would  be  forgiven  and  forgotten  if  he  would  re 
linquish  all  his  bad  ways.  Poor  Gilbert  listened  half- 
doubting,  half-believing.  Her  words  had  more 
weight  with  him  than  Josephine's,  for  he  thought 
that  the  sisterly  love  of  the  latter  caused  her  to  over 
rate  his  power  to  overcome  his  bad  habits.  Worthy 
resolves  grew  up  in  that  wayward  heart,  beneath  El- 
mina's  influence :  and  the  angel  of  Repentance  was 
crowned  with  the  wreath  of  Hope. 

Lucy  playfully  accused  Elmina  of  being  dissipated, 
as  she  had  been  to  the  opera  with  Mr.  Arlington,  and 
went  out  calling  every  day.  The  little  lady  had  set 
her  heart  upon  making  a  match  between  Clinton  and 
Elmina,  and  was  quite  vexed  because  of  Mr.  Arling 
ton's  marked  attentions  to  her  niece.  She  was  full  of 
wonderment  as  to  what  lead  Elmina  from  home  so 
regularly  every  day.  Still  our  heroine  kept  her  se 
cret  inviolate,  and  no  one  in  the  family  had  the 
remotest  suspicions  of  the  real  facts. 

Gilbert  Lee  had  fully  recovered  from  his  illness. 
Onejbright  day  he  sat  with  Josephine  and  Elmina  in 
the  little  parlor  which  had  been  the  scene  of  his  suf 
ferings  and  repentance.  The  flush  of  returning  health 
tinged  his  pale  cheek,  and  his  eyes  burned  with  a 
clear  and  steady  light.  He  was  in  truth  a  fine-look 
ing  man,  with  his  shining  brown  hair,  and  broad,  fair 


LOVE.  —  HOPE  FOE  THE  FALLEX.      215 

brow.  But  a  phrenologist  would  have  said  he  lacked 
firmness  and  self-esteem,  and  that  the  delicate  curve 
of  his  under  lip  indicated  effeminacy  and  indecision 
of  character. 

After  thanking  his  sister  and  Elmina  for  their  kind 
care  of  him,  he  said,  "If  it  were  not  for  that  unfor 
tunate  money,  still  upon  my  hands,  I  might,  in  a 
distant  state,  earn  a  new  name  and  a  good  reputation ; 
but  that  clings  to  me  like  a  curse." 

"Gilbert,  I  beseech  you  to  take  it  back  to  Mr. 
Jones,"  said  Josephine. 

"  Yes,  I  beg  you  to  do  so,"  said  Elmina.  "  I  dare 
say  Mr.  Jones  will  readily  grant  you  his  forgiveness, 
and  then  you  will  feel  greatly  relieved." 

"The  money  must  be  placed  in  his  possession,  but 
I  dare  not  carry  it  myself.  I  have  no  faith  in  his 
forbearance.  He  is  a  hard,  unyielding  man,  and  would 
not  rest  until  the  law  should  punish  me.  I  deserve 
severe  punishment,  I  know ;  and  have  I  not  suffered, 
and  am  I  not  still  suffering,  the  penalty  of  my 
crime  ?  0,  the  days  and  nights  of  misery  since  that 
fatal  deed  !  " 

Elmina's  face  brightened  with  a  happy  thought. 
"I  have  it,"  she  cried.  "Let  me  confide  your  story 
to  Mr.  Ike  Lincoln.  He  is  one  of  the  kindest  and 
most  benevolent  of  men.  I  can  almost  pledge  my 
word  that  he  will  deliver  the  bills  to  the  flour-dealer, 
and  induce  him  to  overlook  your  error." 

"0,  do,  dear  Gilbert,  consent  to  this!"  said 
Josephine,  eagerly.  ' '  I  have  perfect  confidence  in 
Mr.  Lincoln." 

"No,  no,"  said  Gilbert;  "I  cannot  consent.  No 
man  would  look  upon  my  sin  as  leniently  as  you  two 
generous  ones  do.  You  cannot  judge  others  by  your 
selves.  Mr.  Lincoln  would  doubtless  reproach  you 
for  harboring  such  an  unworthy  man,  and  would 


216  ME  HARVEST   OF  LOVE, 

* 

deem  it  his  duty  to  deliver  me  into  the  hands  of 
justice." 

"You  wrong  Mr.  Lincoln,"  said  Josephine,  sadly. 
"  Can  we  not  persuade  you,  dear  brother?  " 

Gilbert  shook  his  head  slowly.  Hjs  companions 
perceived  that  his  morbid  fears  would  never  permit 
them  to  carry  out  such  a  plan.  After  a  thoughtful 
silence,  Elmina  spoke  :  "  Trust  me  with  the  money, 
and  I  will  deliver  it  safely  to  Mr.  Jones." 

"  But  what  if  he  should  command  you  to  tell  him 
where  I  am?" 

"I  should  not  tell  him,"  replied  Elmina,  with 
decision.  "  And,  more  than  that,  I  will  obtain  his 
word  of  honor  never  to  molest  you." 

"  Dear  Miss  Clement !  but  he  may  deny  you." 

"I  am  sure  he  will  not,"  cried  Elmina.  "I  feel 
confident  that  I  can  serve  you  better  than  any  other 
in  this  matter.  Will  you  trust  me?  " 

"Trust  you?  0,  Miss  Clement,  with  my  whole 
heart !  And,  if  you  succeed,  I  promise  you,  by  all 
my  faith  in  God,  and  hope  of  heaven,  to  henceforth 
lead  a  useful  and  virtuous  life !  " 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

ELMINA'S  MISSION. 

IN  a  small  and  dingy  counting-room  sat  two  men 
in  close  conversation.  One  was  a  white-haired,  pleas 
ant-looking  old  gentleman,  the  other  was  in  the 
meridian  of  life.  The  latter  was  a  short,  thick-set 
person,  with  a  morose,  unpleasant  countenance,  and  a 
heavy,  lifeless  manner.  Avarice  and  stubborn  firm 
ness  were  written  in  the  strong  lines  about  his  mouth. 
His  companion  was  evidently  a  person  of  some  con 
sequence,  for  he  treated  him  with  cringing  civility, 
meanwhile  trying  to  lure  him  into  an  unwise  bargain. 

A  little  Irish  boy  thrust  his  head  through  the  door 
way,  and  then  looked  back  with  a  quizzical  glance. 
u  What  do  you  want?  "  gruffly  demanded  his  master. 

"  Plase,  sir,  a  lady  wants  to  see  you." 

"  A  lady  !  "  said  the  man,  rising,  in  awkward  sur 
prise,  just  in  time  to  bow  to  the  female,  who  entered 
unbidden.  The  lady  was  young  and  dressed  gen 
teelly  ;  and  when  she  threw  back  her  veil,  disclosing 
a  face  of  surpassing  sweetness,  the  proprietor  politely 
handed  her  a  chair.  "To  what  circumstance  am  I 
indebted  for  this  visit?''  he  said,  with  an  attempt  at 
being  agreeable. 

The  color  deepened  on  Elmina's  face  (the  reader 
has  doubtless  recognized  our  heroine)  as  she  timidly 
replied  :  "  I  have  come  on  a  somewhat  singular  errand, 
but  I  will  speak  to  the  point  directly,  without  apology. 

(217) 


218  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

You  had  in  your  employ,  a  short  time  ago,  a  man  by 
the  name  of  Gilbert  Lee?" 

"Do  you  know  anything   of  him?"  asked  Mr 
Jones  eagerly,  a  frown  lowering  his  brows. 

•''  It  is  for  him  I  came  to  see  you." 

"  The  thieving  scoundrel !  where  is  he,  and  where 
are  my  five  hundred  dollars  ?  Can  you  give  me  any 
information  concerning  him  ?  I  have  offered  a  reward 
for  his  discovery." 

Elmina's  lip  curled  slightly  with  the  scorn  she 
could  not  repress.  All  her  timidity  vanished,  and 
she  fixed  her  dark  eyes  fully  upon  Mr.  Jones.  She 
related  her  story  in  a  dignified  and  unembarrassed 
manner.  "  Gilbert  Lee  retained  your  money  unlaw 
fully  ;  it  was  very  sinful :  but  remember  it  was  his 
first  theft.  He  repented  very  soon,  but  did  not  dare 
to  throw  himself  upon  your  mercy,  for  he  knew  you 
were  making  strict  search  for  him,  and  had  declared 
revenge.  For  a  week  he  skulked  about  the  streets, 
the  most  miserable  of  men.  Shame,  fear,  and  expos 
ure  combined  to  bring  on  a  fever,  and  for  many  days 
he  lay  near  death's  door ;  but,  under  God's  provi 
dence,  he  has  recovered.  I  think  he  has  repented 
truly  and  sincerely.  He  has  vowed  to  live  a  strictly 
moral  life,  and  become  a  useful  man.  I  firmly  believe 
he  will  keep  his  vow,  if  you  will  but  grant  him  your 
forgiveness,  and  will  never  accuse  him  of  his  crime." 

Mr.  Jones  listened  with  undisguised  displeasure. 
"You  have  got  up  quite  an  affecting  story,"  he  said 
insultingly.  "  And  so  you  think  I  can  afford  to  lose 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  let  the  rascal  go  unpunished 
into  the  bargain?  " 

"  Not  so;  the  unfortunate  man  felt  such  compunc 
tion  for  his  sin  that  he  could  not  spend  a  cent  of  the 
stolen  money.  He  has  sent  it  to  you  by  me.  as  the 
most  tangible  evidence  of  his  repentance." 


ELMINA'S  MISSION.  219 

Mr.  Jones  took  the  money  with  a  somewhat  molli 
fied  air.  "It  is  all  right,"  he  said,  with  a  grim 
smile  of  satisfaction,  after  carefully  counting  it. 

"  You  will  be  content  now,  sir,  and  let  the  poor 
man  go  free?"  asked  Elmina  anxiously. 

"  I  have  not  said  that.  It  is  against  my  principles 
to  let  a  thief  remain  loose  upon  the  world." 

"  But,  sir,  this  is  his  first  theft,  and  I  believe  will 
be  his  last.  I  beseech  you  to  spare  him ;  he  may  yet 
be  a  useful  man.  But  if  he  goes  to  prison  he  will 
lose  all  self-respect,  and  will  feel  ruined  for  life." 

' '  Who  are  you  that  pleads  so  strongly  in  behalf 
of  this  unfortunate  man,  as  you  call  him?  Are  you 
his  sister;  or  perhaps  his  sweetheart?  " 

"There  is  no  tie  that  binds  me  to  Gilbert  Lee, 
save  that  of  our  common  brotherhood,"  said  Elmina, 
as  she  rose  with  dignified  composure. 

"I  will  not  detain  you,"  said  Mr.  Jones.  "Of 
course  I  cannot  compel  you  to  betray  your  friend, 
nor  need  I  promise  to  give  up  my  search  for  him." 

"  I  promised  Gilbert  Lee  that  I  would  obtain  your 
pledge  never  to  molest  him ;  so  that  he  might  walk 
the  earth  free  from  haunting  fears.  My  mission  will 
be  unfulfilled,  nor  can  I  go  content,  until  I  gain  that 
pledge." 

"For  shame,  man!"  cried  the  old  gentleman, 
sharply.  "If  this  fellow  were  ten  times  over  a 
villain  I  would  forgive  him  for  the  sake  of  the  sweet 
lady  who  pleads  for  him.  And  she  is  right,  —  bless 
her  fair  face !  If  there  is  any  manhood  in  you, 
promise  what  she  desires,  and  let  her  leave  this  unfit 
place." 

Mr.  Jones  was  quite  taken  aback,  and  looked  at 
the  old  gentleman  in  blank  amazement.  He  who 
reproved  him  was  very  rich  and  influential.  It  would 
not  do  to  displease  him ;  so.  smothering  his  anger,  he 


220  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

said  to  Elmina.  "Well,  well,  miss;  it  shall  be  a3 
you  wish." 

"  You  pledge  me  your  word  of  honor  that  you  will 
not  arrest  Gilbert  Lee  should  you  ever  discover 
him?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  this  gentleman  will  be  your  witness  ?  "  con 
tinued  Elmina. 

"  Certainly  —  don't  fear ;  he  shall  keep  his  pledge," 
said  the  gentleman,  kindly  offering  his  arm.  "Let 
me  wait  upon  you  down  the  narrow,  dusty  stairs." 

Elmina  thanked  him  witti  a  smile. 

Clinton  had  that  day  returned,  and,  though  El 
mina  was  impatient  to  enjoy  his  company,  she  went 
directly  to  Gilbert  Lee  to  announce  her  success.  We 
will  not  dwell  upon  the  affecting  interview  between 
the  brother  and  sister  and  she  who  had  been  like  an 
angel  to  them  in  her  delicate,  considerate  kindness. 
On  the  morrow  Gilbert  was  to  leave  the  city,  and  in 
the  far  West  to  carve  out  a  good  name  and  a  fortune. 
There  was  so  much  to  be  said  on  all  sides  that  it  was 
quite  night  before  Elmina  could  tear  herself  away; 
then  Gilbert  offered  to  escort  her  home,  and  she 
proudly  accepted  the  arm  of  the  now  redeemed  and 
hopeful  man.  On  the  way,  she  breathed  into  his  ear 
pure  and  invaluable  advice,  which  he  never  forgot  or 
neglected.  As  they  stood  upon  the  marble  steps 
before  Mr.  Lincoln's  door,  Elmina  slipped  a  small 
packet  into  his  hand,  saying,  "  Take  this  trifling  sum ; 
it  may  serve  you  till  you  earn  more.  When  you 
wish  to  repay  me,  give  it  to  some  poor  brother  as 
unfortunate  and  needy  as  you  now  are.  Farewell, 
and  may  happiness  and  prosperity  attend  you." 

Gilbert  was  overcome  with  conflicting  feelings. 
He  wrung  her  hand  with  passionate  fervor.  "  I 
accept  it,"  he  said,  "for  I  could  refuse  nothing  given 


ELMIXA'S  MISSION.  iJ21 

by  you.  I  cannot  express  my  deep,  undying  grati 
tude  to  you.  May  you  enjoy  every  pure  pleasure 
known  to  mortals,  and  may  God  hold  you  in  his 
tenderest  keeping !  Farewell !  While  I  have  life 
and  memory,  your  name  will  be  dearest  in  my  heart." 

He  turned  away,  and  Elmina,  much  affected, 
passed  into  the  house. 

Clinton  had  grown  impatient  at  Elmina's  long 
absence,  and  had  sallied  forth  in  search  of  her.  He 
saw  her  coming  with  a  gentleman,  and  stepped  one 
side  that  they  might  pass  him.  He  saw  they  stood  a 
moment  in  earnest  conference,  and,  though  he  could 
not  distinguish  their  words,  he  heard  Gilbert's  impas 
sioned  tones. 

A  jealous  pang  shot  through  his  heart.  "How 
like  lovers  they  seem !  "  he  muttered.  "I  w.onder  if 
that  was  Arlington?  " 

At  breakfast  Clinton  was  very  unlike  his  cheerful, 
companionable  self.  He  ate  nothing,  and  played 
absently  with  his  coffee.  Lucy  rallied  him  upon  his 
forlorn  appearance,  but  she  could  not  rrake  him  relax 
into  a  smile.  Suddenly  lie  gave  his  coffee  a  vigorous 
stirring,  and  then  swallowed  it  at  a  draught. 

"Uncle  Ike,  I  am  going  to  Saratoga,"  he  broke 
out  at  length. 

"  To  Saratoga  in  November?  " 

"No;  I  meant  that  I  am  going  to  the  White 
Mountains." 

Lucy  burst  into  a  merry  laugh.  "  Clint,  I  verily 
believe  you  are  crazy  !  The  White  Mountains  would 
be  charming  in  winter !  Come  now,  act  like  your 
self,  and  don't  talk  of  going  away  again.  We  can't 
spare  you." 

Clinton  colored  with  the  consciousness  that  he  had 
made  himself  ridiculous  ;  still  he  persisted  in  saying 


222  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

he  should  leave  New  York  He  was  tired  of  the 
city,  and  meant  to  spend  the  winter  in  Massachusetts. 
In  spite  of  the  opposition  of  his  friends,  he  made  his 
adieus  immediately.  Uncle  Ike  laughed  in  the  midst 
of  his  vexation,  and  said  he  had  no  doubt  that  the 
wilful  boy  would  be  back  shortly. 

Elmina's  pillow  was  moistened  with  a  few  quiet 
tears  that  night,  for  she  felt  wounded  at  Clinton's 
abrupt  departure ;  but  she  soon  slept  peacefully  as  a 
child. 

Alone,  in  the  privacy  of  her  apartment,  Lauretta 
bowed  her  head  in  strong  anguish.  Beneath  her  cold 
exterior  were  volcanic  fires  threatening  to  deluge  her 
undisciplined  heart  with  the  scathing  lava  of  selfish 
passions.  0,  Lauretta,  save  thyself  from  thyself, 
ere  it  be  too  late  ! 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

OUR  HERO    BROUGHT   TO    HIS  SENSES. 

"  NEW  YORK,  June  3,  18—. 

"DEAR  CLINT:  I  am  thoroughly  out  of  patience 
with  you  for  rambling  all  over  the  country  in  such  a 
foolish  and  unsatisfactory  manner,  when  we  are  all 
in  a  fever  to  have  you  come  home.  Nearly  six 
months  have  passed  since  you  took  your  abrupt 
departure,  and  in  that  time  I  have  had  only  half 
a  dozen  letters  from  you,  and  those  even  short  and 
lifeless.  What  made  you  leave  us  so  suddenly,  and 
why  you  remain  away,  I  cannot  conceive.  If  you 
have  any  real  trouble  oppressing  you,  who  would  be 
more  willing  to  relieve  you  than  your  doting  uncle  ? 
And,  if  it  is  nothing  but  a  protracted  fit  of  the  blues, 
I  insist  upon  your  immediate  return.  Do  come  home, 
dear  nepheAV  ;  I  am  longing  to  see  you,  as  are  all  the 
rest  of  us.  Lauretta  droops,  and  your  name  brings  a 
blush  and  a  sigh.  Elmina  seldom  speaks  of  you, 
though  I  fancy  she  thinks  of  you  often.  She  has 
changed  since  you  left ;  her  cheek  is  paler,  and  her 
smile  less  frequent.  Though  she  is  cheerful  as  ever, 
she  cannot  conceal  from  me  her  inward  disquiet. 
Clint,  have  you  done  aught  to  grieve  our  Mina  ?  Is 
there  not  a  little  quarrel  or  misunderstanding  to  atone 
for?  Once  I  thought  you  loved  her,  and  that  she 
responded  to  your  love.  What  is  it  that  has  come 
between  you  ?  I  do  hate  this  mystery. 

(223) 


224  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

"  Don't  answer  this  letter  except  by  your  much- 
desired   presence.     We'  are  sad  and   lonely  without 
you,  and  feel  little  Bertie's  death  more  painfully  when 
you  are  away.     I  count  the  days  before  your  return, 
"  From  your  ever  affectionate 

"  UNCLE  IKE." 

Clinton  threw  down  the  letter  with  an  exclamation 
of  self-reproach.  "  How  foolish,  how  impetuous  I 
have  been  !  and  yet  how  kindly  uncle  Ike  writes  to 
his  unworthy  nephew.  Elmina's  roses  fading,  and 
her  brigbWetnile  dimmed,  and  I  the  cause  !  Elmina, 
dearest,  best,  if  I  have  wounded  y<yu;  I  will  a  thou 
sand  times  atone  for  it !  How  much  stronger  and 
better  I  feel:  —  and  but  a  moment  ago  I  felt  quite 
languid  !  Ah,  I  always  jumped  at  a  conclusion ! 
But  Lauretta's  testimony  —  can  it  be  that  she  de 
ceived  me  ?  I  will  find  out,  anyway.  The  shortest 
possible  time  shall  take  me  to  my  good  uncle  and  all 
the  dear  ones  of  our  home  circle." 

Mr.  Lincoln  had  recently  purchased  a  residence  eight 
miles  from  the  city,  and  thither  the  family  removed 
when  flowery  June  trod  in  the  fragrant  footsteps  of 
departed  May.  As  soon  as  they  were  fairly  domes 
ticated,  their  city  friends  were  invited  to  come  and 
dedicate  their  new  home.  It  was  truly  a  social  party, 
entirely  free  from  parade  or  artificial  display.  Spark 
ling  eyes  flashed  in  the  brilliant  light,  and  beaming 
smiles  shone  on  every  face.  Sweeter  than  sweetest 
music  was  the  gushing  laughter  ringing  out  on  the 
balmy  air,  and  joy's  melodious  voice  woke  echoes  in 
every  breast. 

Lucy  Lincoln  moved  among  her  guests  with  un 
affected  grace.  She  yielded  herself  to  the  inspirating 
influence  of  mirth :  she  sought  out  every  silent  or 


OUR   HERO   BROUGHT   TO    HIS   SENSES.          22f> 

unoccupied  one,  and  drew  them  into  the  merriest  cir 
cle.  Once  she  would  have  entered  into  the  gayeties 
of  such  a  scene  with  her  whole  heart ;  but  now  that 
heart  had  hallowed  one  recess  with  beautiful  memo 
ries,  and  Bertie  was  the  magic  word  which  shut  out 
worldly  thoughts.  The  mission  of  sorrow  had  been 
to  add  a  womanly  dignity  and  though  tfulness  to  the 
sweet  simplicity  of  her  character.  If  her  smile  was 
less  frequent  than  before  she  had  tasted  affliction,  it 
was  more  tender  and  expressive. 

Elmina  could  not  enter  into  the  feelings  of  those 
around  her.  The  laughter  and  music  struck  discord 
antly  upon  her  ear^  and  delicate  compliment  and  ready 
wit  failed  to  call  forth  her  powers  of  repartee.  She 
was  sad  at  heart,  and  the  presence  of  gayety  was  dis 
tasteful  to  her.  At  the  first  opportunity  she  stole 
away  by  herself,  and  stood  and  mused  upon  the  pi 
azza,  until  the  soft  breath  of  evening  seemed  to  fan 
away  her  disquiet.  A  figure  advanced  slowly  up  the 
flower-edged  path ;  her  heart  bounded,  as  she  recog 
nized  the  object  of  her  thoughts  ;  —  it  was  Clinton. 
She  was  outwardly  composed  when  he  reached  her 
side,  though  her  face  was  glowing  with  feeling.  After 
their  first  salutations,  they  stood  silently  together. 
Often,  when  we  have  most  to  say,  we  say  the  least. 
The  silence  grew  painful,  and  Elmina  felt  a  bashful 
timidity,  which  she  had  never  before  experienced  by 
the  side  of  Clinton.  She  persuaded  him  to  enter  the 
house,  and  have  his  arrival  made  known  to  the  family 
and  guests. 

Clinton's  appearance  was  hailed  with  great  pleas 
ure.  Uncle  Ike  was  almost  beside  himself  with  joy. 
Though  the  young  man  was  disappointed  in  finding 
the  house  full  of  company,  for  the  sake  of  his  friends, 
he  entered  into  the  gay  circle. 
15 


226  THE    HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

"Clinton,  your  old  friend  and  employer,  Mr.  Gay, 
is  here,  Avith  his  daugl&er." 

Clinton's  countenance  brightened.  "Yes,  I  see 
them  in  the  music-room.  I  will  go  to  them  instantly." 

Old  Mr.  Gay  was  delighted  to  see  his  former  young 
clerk,  and  the  blushes  and  dimples  which  spread  over 
Fannie' s  face  bespoke  her  pleasure.  An  hour  was 
spent  in  recounting  old  times  and  inquiries  for  old 
friends.  A  little  later  in  the  evening  Elmina  and 
Fannie  Gay  were  together,  mutually  pleased  with 
each  other.  Fannie  begged  leave  to  present  Elmina 
to  her  father,  and  led  her  to  the  old  gentleman.  She 
instantly  recognized  him  who  had  joined  her  cause 
as  she  pleaded  for  Gilbert  Lee,  in  the  flour-dealer's 
counting-room.  The  recognition  was  mutual.  Mr. 
Gay  looked  upon  her  varying  face  with  admiring  ap 
proval. 

"  Brave  girl !  "  he  whispered,  as  he  held  her  hands ; 
and  then,  as  he  passed  along  with  his  daughter,  he 
turned  to  uncle  Ike,  and  related  the  story  of  his  first 
meeting  with  our  heroine.  Uncle  Ike's  kind  eye 
filled,  and  a  proud  smile  broke  over  his  face.  "  Just 
what  I  should  expect  from  her,"  he  said.  "  She  is  the 
most  self-sacrificing  girl  I  ever  knew." 

Once,  when  Elmina  was  chatting  with  Mr.  Arling 
ton,  she  felt  Clinton's  glance  upon  her.  He  was 
leaning  against  the  marble  mantle,  at  the  further  end 
of  the  room.  She  was  quite  startled  at  the  reproach 
speaking  in  his  eye,  and  his  melancholy  aspect.  She 
observed  that  he  was  thin,  and  looked  more  than  half 
ill.  "Clint's  wandering  life  has  worn  upon  him," 
she  thought;  "he  needs  rest  and  quiet."  She  drew 
near  him,  in  order  to  dissipate  his  sadness  by  her 
cheerful  sallies.  Lauretta  joined  them,  and,  against 
the  battery  of  their  united  charms,  Clinton  grew 
companionable,  and  outwardly  cheerful  again. 


OUR   HERO    BROUGHT   TO    HIS   SENSES.          227 

A  momentary  shadow  restSop  upon  Fannie  Gay,  as 
she  beheld  Clinton  between  tOpe  two  beautiful  girls. 
"  But  what  a  foolish  child  I  am  !  "  she  said  to  her 
self.  "  Clinton  Forrest  is  nothing  to  me."  Mr. 
Arlington  drew  her  into  a  tete-a-tete,  and  she  soon 
forgot  everything  but  his  fascinating  conversation. 

Mr.  Arlington  loved  Elmina,  but  he  knew  his  love 
to  be  unreturned.  Though  wounded,  he  could  not 
reproach  her,  and,  like  a  true  man,  he  endeavored  to 
overcome  his  disappointment.  He  fancied  Fannie 
Gay  resembled  Elmina  in  manners  and  disposition, 
and  he  felt  a  pleasure  in  her  society,  which  soothed 
the  pain  Elmina  gave  him,  now  he  knew  she  could 
never  be  his. 

The  night  waned,  and  the  guests  retired ;  there 
wag  empty  silence  where  mirth  and  gayety  had  reigned 
supreme.  Elmina  passed  through  the  vacant  drawing- 
rooms  and  entered  the  library  to  get  a  favorite  book, 
which  she  wished  to  carry  to  her  chamber.  She  was 
surprised  by  seeing  Clinton  sitting  there  alone. 

"Are  you  up  still?  I  thought  you  had  retired, 
Clinton." ' 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  Mina,"  he  said,  in  a 
monotonous  tone,  much  at  variance  with  the  strong 
agitation  written  on  his  countenance.  "  I  cannot 
rest  until  I  have  unburdened  my  mind." 

With  a  cordial  smile,  she  unhesitatingly  sat  down 
by  his  side. 

"Mina,  it  is  for  you  to  make  me  the  happiest  or 
most  miserable  of  men.  Hear  my  story.  When  I 
was  a  forlorn  child  your  angel  ways  awoke  the  first 
affection  in  my  heart.  I  loved  you  worshippingly, 
for  you  seemed  infinitely  above  me ;  but,  as  we  grew 
older,  and  we  lived  so  much  like  brother  and  sister, 
you  grew  nearer  and  dearer  to  me.  You  gave  me  a 
sister's  love,  but  I  loved  you  for  father,  mother, 


228  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

brother,  sister  —  you  were  all  the  world  to  me  !  That 
boyish  affection  is  now  lost  in  a  deeper,  more  enduring 
love.  I  feel  what  language  cannot  express.  Elmina, 
do  you  love  me?  " 

Her  voice  trembled  slightly,  but  there  was  a  rip 
pling  sweetness  in  its  tones,  as  she  replied,  "  Clinton, 
you  know  that  I  love  you  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  feel  a  friendly  interest  in  my 
welfare ;  but  is  your  love  like  mine  ?  Do  you  re 
member  that  cousin  Bertie's  last  farewell  was  to  the 
'  two  dear  cousins  he  loved  '  ?  He  spoke  of  us  to 
gether,  as  though  the  intuitions  of  his  soul  told  him 
our  spirits  were  united,  and  that  our  names  and  des 
tinies  would  likewise  be  one.  0,  Elmina,  is  it  not 
thus  ;  shall  it  not  be  so  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  whispered.  "I  am  yours,  only  yours!" 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

HAPPINESS.  — LAURETTA'S  PRIDE. 

"  Terrestrial  love  is  like  the  chameleon  ;  it  takes  the  colors  of 
the  heart  on  which  it  creeps." 

ON  the  morrow  Clinton  went  to  the  city,  and  when 
he  returned,  at  night,  he  brought  a  letter  for  Elmina, 
from  Gilbert  Lee.  It  had  been  enclosed  in  one  for 
Josephine.  It  was  written  in  such  a  grateful,  happy 
spirit,  that  we  cannot  forbear  to  give  it  a  place  on  our 
pages.  Thus  it  ran  : 

"DEAR  Miss  CLEMENT:  Would  it  give  you 
pleasure  to  hear  from  the  erring,  desponding  man 
whom  you  rescued  from  destruction,  and  sent  away, 
strong  in  new  hope  and  courage?  I  pray -for  you 
night  and  morning;  and,  if  the  prayers  of  one  so 
unworthy  could  be  granted,  you  would  be  blessed 
indeed ! 

"  I  came  directly  toM ,  and  found  respectable 

employment  and  good  pay ;  and,  what  is  far  better,  I 
found  good  friends.  If  I  am  blessed  with  health,  in 
a  year  I  shall  be  able  to  furnish  me  a  little  home,  and 
0,  there  is  such  a  dear  one  to  make  that  home  happy  ! 
She  whom  I  love  is  a  poor  girl,  and  not  very  well 
educated,  to  be  sure ;  but  she  is  modest  and  gentle. 
Her  heart  is  full  of  kindness,  and  —  and  she  loves  me  ! 
I  have  told  her  the  whole  story  of  my  life,  and  still  she 
trusts  me,  and  says  she  will  marry  me.  if  I  continue 

(229) 


230  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

sober  and  industrious  one  little  year.  I  have  told  her 
of  my  deep,  reverential,  almost  worshipping  affection 
for  you,  and  she  is  not  jealous,  but  says  she  would  give 
the  world  to  see  you.  Isn't  that  beautiful,  and  isn't 
she  a  dear,  kind  girl  ?  0,1  am  so  happy ;  and  to 
you  I  owe  everything  !  I  have  foresworn  the  wine- 
cup,  gambling,  and  everything  which  leads  to  idleness 
and  dissipation.  '  Industry  and  sobriety '  is  my 
motto.  All  the  good  I  may  do,  and  all  the  happiness 
I  enjoy,  I  ascribe  to  your  exceeding  goodness  and 
consideration.  May  you  be  as  blessed  as  you  deserve 
to  be.  I  can  say  nothing  more. 

"  Joyfully,  gratefully,  I  am  yours, 

"  GILBERT  LEE." 

Elmina's  eyes  swam  in  tears,  as  she  handed  the 
letter  to  Clinton,  who  read  it,  and  then  returned  it, 
with  a  look  of  affectionate  admiration. 

"I  understand  the  whole  story  of  it,"  he  saidS 
"  Josephine  Emery  has  told  me  all.  I  thought  I  knew 
you,  but  I  did  not ;  I  did  not  know  the  true  beauty 
and  strength  of  your  character.  And  now,  Elmi.ua. 
when  I  deserve  it  least,  when  I  am  entirely  unworthy 
of  your  precious  love,  you  grant  -me  the  priceless 
boon.  How  can  I  repay  you,  except  by  u  life  of  de 
votion  to  your  happiness?  " 

She  placed  her  hand  trustingly  in  his.  "  If  I 
thought  you  unworthy,"  she  said,  "  my  love  would 
never  have  been  given.  And  what  need  I,  in  return, 
sa've  your  strong  arm  and  manly  heart  to  lean  upon 
through  all  life's  trials  ?  ;; 

t:  Which  you  shall  ever  have,  beloved  Elmina !  " 
cried  Clinton,  fervently.  ':  I  will  be  your  protector 
and  support ;  you,  my  guide  and  star  !  As  I  cherish 
and  make  you  happy,  so  may  God  bless  and  prosper 
me  ! 


HAPPINESS.  —  LAURETTA'S  PRIDE.         231 

''•  Now  I  must  explain  a  little  to  you,  else  you  will 
think  me  wilfully  capricious,  when  impetuous  haste 
was  my  greatest  fault.  Mina,  I  thought  I  loved  you 
as  a  very  dear  sister ;  I  had  not  sounded  the  depths 
of  my  own  heart  until  I  came  to  say  'good-by '  to 
you,  before  leaving  home  last  summer  to  do  some 
business  for  uncle  Ike.  Then,  in  an  instant,  the 
beautiful  fact  was  revealed  to  my  mind,  and  I  fancied 
I  read  the  response  in  your  agitated  manner.  0,  how 
impatient  I  was  to  get  back  to  your  side  !  I  slept  to 
dream  of  you ;  and,  waking,  your  dear  image  was  ever 
before  me.  When  I  returned  I  determined  to  tell  you 
of  my  love  immediately,  before  another  could  Avin 
your  coveted  affections.  On  the  very  day  of  my 
arrival  you  went  out  directly  after  dinner,  and  did 
not  return  until  evening.  I  was  a  little  mortified,  but 
could  have  borne  it  quite  well,  had  not  aunt  Lucy 
tried  to  make  me  jealous.  She  told  of  Mr.  Ar 
lington's  very  flattering  attentions  to  you,  and  de 
clared  that,  if  he  had  not  already  proposed,  he  would 
do  so  very  soon.  I  knew,  by  the  roguery  in  her  eye, 
and  her  low,  tickling  laugh,  that  she  had  guessed  my 
secret,  and  enjoyed  my  too  evident  discomfort.  '  Still 
there  may  be  a  little  chance  for  you,  Clint,  if  you  are 
only  quick  enough/'  she  said  in  her  peculiarly  be 
witching  way,  and  then  went  off,  singing  a  provoking 
love-song. 

"  Then  Lauretta  came  to  my  side,  and  said  she  had 
a  little  secret  to  tell  me,  which  I  must  not  reveal,  as 
it  was  not  her  own  secret.  Mrs.  Lincoln  did  n't 
know  it,  not  even  uncle  Ike,  but  Elmina  had  confided 
everything  to  her.  '  Arlington  had  proposed,  and 
Elmina  had  accepted  ! '  0,  Mina,  those  words  were 
barbed  arrows  to  my  heart.  She  went  on  to  say  that 
as  it  was  so  sudden  an  engagement,  you  wished  to 


232  THE   HARVEST   OP   LOVE. 

keep  it  secret  a  few  weeks,  and  on  no  account  must  I 
breathe  a  word  of  it. 

"  I  was  greatly  afflicted,  but  still  hoped  it  might  be 
a  mistake.  When  it  grew  dark  I  went  out,  hoping  to 
find  you  in  the  street.  I  met  you  with  a  person 
whom  I  fancied  to  be  Arlington.  I  did  not  under 
stand  the  conversation  between  you,  but  I  thought  the 
tones  very  lover-like.  I  passed  a  long  and  dismal 
night,  and  arose  unrefreshed.  Lauretta  was  first  in 
the  breakfast-room. 

"  l  Lauretta,'  I  said,  earnestly,  'can  you  vouch  for 
the  truth  of  aH  you  told  me  concerning  Arlington 
and  —  and  Elmina  ?  Are  you  sure  it  is  so  ?  ' 

"  With  a  proud,  half-offended  look,  she  assured 
me  it  was  just  as  she  had  said.  I  had  only  time  to 
apologize  for  my  question,  when  the  family  came  in 
to  breakfast.  I  was  half-distracted  with  disappoint 
ment  and  jealousy.  I  had  lost  the  prize  for  which  I 
would  have  staked  everything  I  possessed.  You, 
whom  I  loved  with  the  most  ardent  affection,  was  the 
promised  bride  of  another.  I  could  not  stay  a  day  in 
your  presence,  and  hurried  away,  my  mind  in  a 
whirlwind  of  excitement.  I  never  dreamed  of  re 
proaching  you  —  I  only  blamed  my  own  blindness 
and  backwardness.  Uncle  Ike's  letter  brought  me  to 
my  senses,  and  I  have  come  back  with  the  same  pre 
cipitancy  with  which  I  left.  Now  I  am  so  light  of 
heart  that  I  cannot  realize  that  I  have  spent  near  six 
wretched  months.  Elmina,  can  you  forgive  the  pain 
I  have  occasioned  you  ?  Can  you  forgive  my  headlong 
haste  ?  Will  you  still  love  me  with  all  my  faults  ?  " 

Clinton  was  more  than  satisfied  with  the  trusting 
smile  which  answered  him.  But  a  grave  look  came  in 
stantly,  as  she  said,  "  How  ashamed  Lauretta  must  feel 
when  she  knows  that  we  have  discovered  her  false 
hood  !" 


HAPPINESS.  —  LAURETTA'S  PRIDE. 

"  I  knew  Lauretta  was  proud  and  selfish,  but  I 
thought  that  she  was  honorable.  A  woman  who 
sullies  her  lips  with  a  falsehood,  is  despicable  !  "  said 
Clinton,  indignantly.  "  What  possible  motive  could 
she  have  had,  Mina?" 

Elmina's  cheek  took  a  brighter,  richer  tinge,  and 
she  looked  up  archly,  but  without  replying. 

"Poor  girl!  "  she  said,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
"  she  must  be  very  miserable." 

"Miserable!"  repeated  Clinton,  "how  ashamed, 
how  disgraced  she  must  feel !  I  scorn  the  intriguing 
girl." 

"Nay,  pity  her  instead.  Let  us  never  expose  or 
reproach  her,  but  treat  her  as  we  have  ever  done. 
She  will  suffer  enough  without  our  adding  a  single 
pang." 

"  Your  generosity  exceeds  mine,  but  for  your  sake 
I  will  do  as  you  wish.  Happy  would  it  be  for  Lau 
retta  Fay,  if  she  should  copy  some  of  your  virtues. 
I  recollect  that  your  father  thought  that  your  mother 
was  almost  perfect ;  and  she  was,  indeed,  one  of  the 
noblest  and  loveliest  of  women ;  but  you  bid  fair  to 
surpass  her,  though  you  are  very  like  her." 

"I  surpass  my  mother!  0,  Clint,  don't  praise 
me  !  If  there  is  anything  beautiful  or  consistent  in 
my  character,  any  virtue  worthy  to  be  copied,  it  ia 
hers.  While  she  lived,  her  hand  led  me,  her  voice 
guided  me ;  and,  since  she  became  an  angel,  the  mem 
ory  of  her  spotless  life  and  elevated  principles  has 
daily  grown  brighter  in  my  heart.  I  believe  she  is 
my  guardian  angel,  for  I  often  feel  her  spirit-presenco 
in  my  inmost  soul." 

"  0,  Elmina,"  said  Clinton,  caressing  her  with  an 
overflowing  heart,  "with  you  for  my  life-companion, 
who  have  an  angel-guide,  I  should  walk  in  a  higher 
and  better  path  than  I  have  even  yet  trod.  Together 


234  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

we  will  seek  to  attain  that  high  spiritual  life,  which 
will  overcome  earth's  strongest  trials,  and  fit  us  for- 
useful  happiness,  and  a  triumphant  death." 

Night  had  kindly  hung  her  curtain  before  the 
blazing  sun,  and  threw  her  cooling  shadows  over  the 
heated  earth.  It  was  a  fascinating  night  in  June.  The 
full  moon,  suddenly  rising  above  a  mass  of  fleecy  clouds, 
poured  her  silvery  beams  through  the  open  casement. 
Lauretta  could  not  bear  it ;  the  clear,  calm  light, 
mocked  her  woe.  With  an  impatient  gesture,  she 
arose  and  closed  the  shutters,  and  lighted  a  shade 
lamp.  Then  she  sank  upon  her  luxurious  lounge 
in  an  attitude  of  despair.  Her  face  was  crimson 
with  the  fire  of  raging  emotions ;  the  pearly  teeth 
tightly  compressed  her  aristocratic  lips,  and  her  azure 
eyes  were  distended  with  a  wild,  fierce  expression. 
No  tears  quenched  their  unnatural  brightness.  Her 
small,  jewelled  hands  were  clinched  above  her  breast, 
as  though  she  thought  to  still  the  tempest  there. 

"If  I  could  only  cry,"  she  murmured,  hoarsely, 
"  if  I  could  only  cry.  and  wash  away  with  tears  this 
terrible  fever  at  my  heart !  But  I  am  too  miserable  to 
cry — too  miserable  !  How  he  must  hate  and  despise 
me  !  and  I.  0.  how  I  loved  him  !  And  I  have  smiled, 
and  smiled,  when  my  heart  was  breaking.  Now  I  am 
disgraced.  I  have  deceived  him  who  is  the  very  soul 
of  honor.  If  I  could  only  blot  out  that  one  hour  of 
my  life  !  I  had  rather  my  tongue  had  been  palsied. 
I  knew  she  had  refused  Arlington  for  Clinton7  s  sake ; 
but  I  thought  to  blind  him,  and  win  him  to  my  side, 
and  I  have  failed.  I  have  lowered  my  pride  and 
stooped  to  deception,  and  now  my  punishment  is  more 
than  I  can  bear.  They  are  so  happy  in  their  love, 
and  I  am  alone  in  my  shame.  0,  I  had  rather  they 
would  never  look  at  me  a^ain  than  to  treat  me  sc 


HAPPINESS.  —  LAURETTA'S  PRIDE.         235 

kindly  when  I  know  they  scorn  me  !  But  I  loved 
him,  and  hated  her  who  rejoiced  in  his  smile." 

She  hid  her  face  in  the  silken  cushions,  and  lay 
motionless.  Gradually  her  mood  softened,  and  the 
tears  gathered  beneath  her  lashes.  She  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  scornfully  dashed  the  bright  drops  away. 

( '  Tears  !  I  will  not  shed  one  tear  for  him  !  I  do 
not  love  him  —  I  never  loved  him  !  Lauretta  Fay 
give  her  heart  unasked,  unsought !  Never  !  Many 
have  asked  for  my  hand,  and  Clinton  Forrest  shall  not 
see  me  droop  and  pine  because  he  has  not  sought  for 
it.  I  will  not  shrink  and  cringe ;  my  pride  shall  sus 
tain  me  !  I  will  be  married  before  they  are,  and  he 
need  not  think  it  was  for  love  I  told  him  falsely ;  and 
that  soft-voiced  Elmina  shall  not  triumph  over  me. 

"Let  me  think,"  she  continued,  dropping  her  head 
thoughtfully.  "  I  have  refused  two  within  a  month  ; 
Arlington  long  since  left  my  ranks,  and  Carleton 
only  remains  upon  the  lists.  I  don't  much  fancy  him, 
but  it  matters  little.  He  will  visit  me  to-night,  and 
I  will  bring  him  to  the  point.  He  shall  propose,  and 
I  will  insist  upon  an  early  marriage.  It  is  eight 
o'clock  ;  he  will  be  here  shortly,  and  I  must  dress  to 
receive  him." 

The  strong  hand  of  pride  had  composed  her  nerves, 
and  she  stood  calmly  before  her  mirror.  A  proud 
smile  played  over  her  features  as  she  beheld  the 
queenly  beauty  reflected  there.  She  bound  her  long, 
bright  hair  with  pearls,  and  covered  her  white  arms 
and  taper  fingers  with  jewels  ;  an  elegant  dress  of 
blue  silk  set  off  her  fair  complexion,  and  a  fold  of 
•costly  lace  covered  her  bosom,  still  beating  painfully, 
in  spite  of  her  glittering  smile.  Just  as  she  was 
arrayed  in  faultless  taste,  the  door-bell  rang,  and  she 
descended  the  stairs  with  a  stately  step,  to  welcome 
her  foppish  visitor. 


236  THIS   HARVEST  <jF   LOVE1. 

That  night  Lauretta  was  betrothed  to  the  unprin 
cipled  Carleton,  who  loved  her  only  for  her  Avealth, 
with  which  he  hoped  to  build  up  his  own  broken  for 
tune.  But  Heaven  was  merciful.  On  the  morrow 
she  was  taken  violently  ill,  and  for  several  weeks  was 
confined  to  her  chamber.  Elmina  was  her  constant 
nurse.  She  watched  over  her,  with  all  the  apparent 
solicitude  of  a  fond  sister.  At  first  Lauretta  shrank  from 
receiving  the  attentions  of  one  she  had  tried  to  injure 
so  deeply,  but  Elmina's  affectionate  ways  prevailed  at 
last,  and  won  her  love  and  gratitude. 

With  tears  of  contrition  Lauretta  confessed  her 
misfortune,  her  error,  and  her  mad  folly,  in  the  en 
gagement  to  Mr.  Carleton.  "  But  I  do  not  respect 
him,"  she  said  in  conclusion,  "and.  as  he  has  not 
called  upon  me  during  my  sickness,  I  am  convinced 
he  does  not  love  me,  and  therefore  I  shall  send  him  a 
note  requesting  him  to  release  me  from  my  promise; 
Had  I  not  best  do  so,  Elmina  ?  ' ' 

"  By  his  own  conduct  I  think  he  has  lost  all  claim 
upon  you,"  said  Elmina.  taking  up  a  daily  paper  and 
giving  it  to  her  companion.  "  Head,  Lauretta,  and 
thank  Grod  for  your  deliverance." 

Lauretta  glanced  eagerly  at  the  paragraph  pointed 
out.  She  grew  pale,  then  crimson  with  shame,  and 
burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  Elmina  put  her  arm 
kindly  about  her.  "  Do  not  weep,  dear  Lauretta," 
she  said;  "your  secret  is  safe  with  me;  no  one  shall 
know  that  you  ever  seriously  encouraged  the  atten 
tions  of  so  unworthy  a-  man.  Strive  to  forget  hhn> 
and  you  may  be  happy  again." 

Carleton  had  been  arrested  for  an  extensive  forgery, 
and  was  at  that  time  in  confinement,  awaiting  his 
trial.  He  was  convicted  and'  condemned  to  a  long 
imprisonment. 

Lauretta  reentered  the  gay  circles-,  from  which  she 


HAPPINESS.  —  LAURETTA'S  PRIDE.         237 

had  been  missed  for  a  season,  and  none  dreamed  of 
the  smothered  pain  and  mortification  in  her  breast. 
She  danced,  and  flirted,  and  coquetted,  as  before.  In 
all  outward  things  she  was  unchanged,  save  in  her 
treatment  of  Elmina,  whom  she  now  tenderly  loved. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

UNCLE   IKE  IN  A   DILEMMA. 

CLINTON  was  in  the  library,  reading,  when  uncle 
Ike  entered,  with  an  unusual  expression  of  gravity 
upon  his  full,  benevolent  face.  He  closed  the  door% 
and  commenced  walking  the  floor  slowly,  with  his 
arms  folded  behind  him,  and  his  head  bowed  upon  his 
chest. 

"  Clinton,"  he  began,  a  little  nervously,  "  I  have 
educated  you,  and  spent  my  money  freely  upon  you ; 
and  I  have  been  richly  rewarded.  You  have  been  as  a 
son  to  me,  or  rather  as  a  younger  brother." 

"  And  you  have  been  everything  to  mer — father, 
brother,  and  uncle,"  said  Clinton,  with  a  glow  of 
grateful  feeling. 

"  I  have  called  you  my  heir,  have  I  not,  Clint, 
and  made  a  will  in  your  favor  ?  " 

"  You  have  called  me  your  heir,  uncle;  but  I  have 
looked  upon  it  as  a  title  of  affection  and  respect,  as 
you  are  yet  a  young  man,  and  we  shall  grow  old 
together." 

"  Well,  you  have  had  reason  to  expect  that  I 
should  give  you  a  handsome  setting-out  in  life." 
Uncle  Ike  walked  faster  and  faster,  with  his  head 
averted  from  his  nephew.  "Now,  what  should  you 
say,  what  should  you  do,  were  I  to  burn  my  will ;  cut 

(238) 


UNCLE   IKE   IN    A    DILEMMA.  239 

you  off  with  a  paltry  thousand,  —  in  short,  disinherit 
you?" 

"  I  could  bear  it  all  very  well,  if  I  can  only  retain 
your  affections.  But  it  must  be  I  have  offended  you. 
What  have  I  done  wrong?  " 

"Nothing." 

"I  don't  understand  it,  uncle,"  said  Clinton,  in  a 
tone  of  concern.  "  I  must  have  grieved  you  in  some 
way ;  please  tell  me  how,  and  I  will  make  every 
reparation  in  my  power." 

"I  tell  you,  Clint,  you  have  done  nothing  displeas 
ing  to  me;  I  never  loved  you  better  than  at  this 
moment ;  and  that  makes  it  seem  all  the  worse  for 
me  to  disappoint  your  expectations."  Here  he  blew 
^his  nose  violently,  as  if  to  invoke  his  courage. 
"  Whatever  circumstances  may  occur,  don't  think  you 
are  any  the  less  my  dear  nephew." 

A  new  thought  flashed  over  CJinton's  mind,  and 
his  expression  of  perplexity  vanished  in  a  broad  smile 
of  delight.  "  Uncle,"  he  cried,  seizing  his  arm 
eagerly,  ' '  look  at  me,  and  tell  me  if  I  have  not 
guessed  rightly  :  you  want  to  get  married  !  " 

Uncle  Ike  looked  into  his  nephew's  mirthful  eyes, 
until  he  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "  You  are  right, 
Clint;  you 've  guessed  it." 

"  I  thought  so,  uncle,  and  I  am  right  glad,  too  !  " 
I  wonder  1  did  not  think  of  it  before,  when  I  knew 
you  thought  Josephine  Emery  the  most  wonderful  of 
all  her  sex.  Now  I  can  account  for  your  frequent 
rides  into  the  city.  I  wish  you  much  joy  !  " 

"  Not  so  fast,  boy ;  I  've  not  asked  yet.  You  had 
better  wish  me  success.  I  thought  it  would  not  be 
honorable  in  me  to  take  a  step  which  would  rob  you 
of  the  property  which  you  have  looked  upon  as 
yours,  without  first  preparing  your  mind  for  the 


240  THE  HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

"  Set  your  heart  at  rest,  my  dear,  conscientious 
sir,  for  1  have  not  a  word  against  it.  You  are  too 
Bocial  and  domestic  to  make  a  contented  bachelor. 
Josephine  will  accept  you ;  she  cannot  be  insensible 
to  your  worth.  She  will  make  you  a  charming  wife ; 
you  will  be  a  capital  husband,  and  a  good  father  to 
her  children.  My  dear  uncle,  I  rejoice  in  your  pro 
spective  happiness !  " 

"You  forget,  Clint;  you  are  rejoicing  in  what  will 
make  you  poor.  If  I  marry  Josephine,  her  children 
will  be  mine,  and  my  property  devoted  to  them." 

"Of  course,  how  could  it  be  otherwise?"  said 
Clinton.  "But  I  am  not  poor:  I  can't  be  poor. 
Have  I  not  two  strong  hands,  and  a  head  containing 
a  respectable  amount  of  information  ?  How  fortunate 
that  I  had  such  a  fancy  for  studying  law  two  years 
ago !  for  a  few  weeks'  study  will  now  fit  me  for  the 
profession.  I  can  work,  Uncle  Ike,  and  I  will 
work !" 

Bright  drops  twinkled  in  Uncle  Ike's  eyes.  "  You 
are  a  noble,  generous  fellow,"  he  said.  "  Not  one  in 
ten  thousand  would  act  and  feel  as  you  do,  in  like 
circumstances." 

"I  want  you  to  be  happy  as  I  am,"  said  Clinton. 
"Why,  since  Elmina  has  promised  to  be  mine,  and 
you  have  blessed  our  love,  I  feel  as  though  I  must 
impart  some  of  my  overflowing  happiness  to  every 
one  I  meet.  I  have  not  a  regret  for  the  fortune. 
There  is  dormant  energy  and  independence  in  my 
character  which  will  come  out  now."  Clinton  threw 
his  head  back  proudly,  taking  a  deep  inspiration. 
''  Born  to  poverty  and  want,  and  struggling  for  years 
against  every  disadvantage,  I  am  consequently  better 
fitted  for  exertion  than  to  repose  in  the  lap  of  luxury. 
I  have  studied  and  dreamed — dreamed  of  doing  great 
and  worthy  deeds  ;  but  your  fortune,  my  most  gener- 


UNCLE   IKE   IN   A   DILEMMA.  241 

ous  uncle,  was  a  clog  instead  of  a  spur.  Now  that  is 
removed,  I  can  work.  The  world  would  never  have 
heard  of  your  '  sole  heir,'  but  it  may  hear  of  your 
humble  nephew  !  " 

No  wonder  uncle  Ike  looked  proudly  and  fondly 
upon  the  young  man  before  him,  whose  handsome 
face  was  beaming  with  the  strong  purpose  of  his 
heart. 

"  I  will  tell  Elmina  of  the  change  in  my  prospects, 
and  I  know  she  will  feel  just  as  I  do.  God  speed 
your  wooing,  mv  incorrigible,  incurable  bachelor 
uncle !  " 

Josephine  Emery  had  learned  to  watch  for  the 
daily  coming  of  one  whose  cheerful  presence  had 
enlivened  many  an  hour,  and  whose  active  benevo 
lence  had  raised  her  above  toil  and  want.  Her  chil 
dren  ran  shouting  "  Uncle  Ike  !  Uncle  Ike  !  "  when 
ever  he  came  to  the  door,  and  her  own  heart  beat  a 
quick  and  joyful  measure  when  his  well-known  step 
resounded  through  the  hall. 

Yes,  Josephine  loved  Ike  Lincoln;  —  perhaps  not 
as  she  loved  him  who  had  received  her  girlish  vows, 
and  placed  the  ring  upon  her  finger  in  token  of  their 
betrothment;  but  she  felt  for  him  an  earnest  and 
sincere  affection.  His  sterling  character  had  won 
her  admiration,  and  his  delicate  and  repeated  kind 
nesses  to  her  had  deepened  admiration  into  gratitude, 
and  gratitude  into  love. 

When  he  told  her  he  loved  her ;  that  his  greatest 
desire  was  to  make  her  the  mistress  of  a  home  which 
should  be  equally  theirs ;  that  he  wished  to  adopt  her 
children,  and  be  a  kind  father  to  them;  —  when  he 
told  her  that,  the  deepest,  holiest  affections  of  hia 
heart  were  all  dedicated  to  her,  she  felt  that  her  cup 
16 


242  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

of  happiness  was  suddenly  filled  to  the  brim,  and  she 
quaffed  it  with  a  thankful  heart. 

There  was  uplifting  of  hands,  and  upraising  of 
eyes,  when  it  was  whispered  among  the  fashionables 
that  Ike  Lincoln  was  going  to  be  married.  What  a 
wonder  !  Who  was  the  fortunate  lady  ?  Where  did 
she  come  from?  Nobody  knew;  so  everybody  put 
their  heads  together  to  unravel  the  great  mystery. 
But,  when  it  was  really  known  that  he  had  married 
a  young  widow,  whose  only  dowry  was  her  beauty, 
virtue,  and  two  little .  children,  the  wonder  increased 
tenfold. 

Manoeuvring  mammas  and  marriageable  daughters, 
who  had  flattered  and  courted  the  wealthy  and  eccen 
tric  bachelor ;  those  who  had  fawned  and  smiled  upon 
him,  proud  to  receive  a  smile  in  return  ;  those  who 
had  swallowed  his  sarcastic  rebukes  without  a  grimace, 
because  they  came  from  him ;  —  all  these  shook  their 
heads  and  set  it  down  as  a  very  foolish  affair. 

But  the  happy  couple  cared  not  for  what  the  world 
said,  so  long  as  their  personal  friends  approved  and 
rejoiced  with  them.  A  lovely  country-seat  was  fitted 
up  with  everything  which  wealth  and  taste  could  com 
mand,  and  thither  uncle  Ike  took  his  little  family. 

They  were  married ;  peace  and  plenty  guarded  the 
doors,  and  the  angels  of  love  and  happiness  crowning 
their  hearts  never  were  displaced.  Tranquil  pleas 
ures,  intellectual  pursuits,  and  acts  of  benevolence 
and  friendship,  filled  up  the  glad  measure  of  their 
days. 

"  An  elegant  sufficiency  ;  content, 

Retirement,  rural  quiet,  friendship,  books, 
Ease  and  alternate  labor,  useful  life, 
Progressive  virtue,  and  approving  Heaven." 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE   BRIDAL. 

**  Echo,  on  the  zephyrs  gliding, 

Bears  a  voice  which  seems  to  say, 

'  Ears  and  hearts,  come  list  my  tiding, 

This  has  been  a  'wedding  day.'  '; 

A  YEAR  had  passed.  Our  hero  had  studied  faith 
fully  and  well.  He  had  been  admitted  to  the  bar 
with  honor,  and  old  and  wise  lawyers  said  that  Clin 
ton  Forrest  would  be  an  ornament  to  his  profession. 
His  heart  beat  with  high  hopes,  and  now  the  crowning 
wish  of  his  life  was  about  to  be  consummated. 

On  one  fair  morning,  Clinton  and  Elmina  were  to 
start  for  Oakville ;  there,  beneath  the  parental  roof, 
to  register  their  plighted  vows  before  God  and  man. 
It  was  to  be  a  double  wedding ;  for,  in  the  same  hour, 
Frank  Clement  and  Dora  May  were  to  become  one  in 
name,  as  they  had  long  been  in  heart.  Generous 
uncle  Ike  had  caused  a  fine  cottage  to  be  erected  en 
a  lovely  site  adjoining  the  grounds  once  belonging  to 
Dr.  Clement,  now  in  the  possession  of  his  son.  He 
and  Clinton  had  repeatedly  visited  Oakville,  and  now 
the  house  was  all  fitted  and  furnished  for  the  young 
couple. 

Uncle  Ike  and  his  Josephine  had  never  journeyed 
together,  and  they  thought  this  a  fine  opportunity  to 
visit  Oakville,  and  to  accompany  their  young  friends 
on  their  bridal*  tour. 

(243) 


244  THE   HARVEST   OF   LOVE. 

George  Lincoln's  spacious  villa  was  rife  with  the 
bustle  of  preparation.  Tears  and  smiles,  rogrets  and 
congratulations,  mingled  with  the  tender  leave-taking. 
Uncle  George  shook  hands  with  his  nephew  and  niece, 
and  wished  them  every  imaginable  blessing.  Lucy 
folded  Elrnina  to  her  bosom,  with  brimming  eyes,  and 
prayed  Heaven  to  smile  upon  her  ever.  She  em 
braced  Clinton,  with  many  half-serious,  half-playful 
commands  about  guarding  well  her  darling  Mina. 
The  little  girls  clung  weeping  to  their  dear  cousins, 
and  only  repeated  promises  that  they  should  visit 
them  in  their  Massachusetts  home  could  cheek  their 
fast-flowing  tears. 

The  last  good-by  was-  said,  and,  uncle  Ike's  cheer 
ful  voice  sounding  above  the  rest,  the  two  couple 
entered  the  coach  which  was  to  convey  them  to  the 
steamboat.  The  short  journey  to  Oakville  was 
executed  quickly  and  pleasantly.  We  say  Oakville 
still,  though  the  place  is  now  known  by  a  different 
appellation,  and  has  become  almost  a  city  in  popula 
tion  and  business. 

Elmina  thought  the  place  had  never  looked  so 
beautiful,  and  her  own  dear  childhood's  home  seemed 
dearer  than  ever  before.  Frank  and  Bora  were  ready 
to  greet  them.  0,  what  a  meeting  it  was !  We  can 
not  describe  it;  our  pen  falters  and  shrinks  from 
the  impossible  task.  Here  our  young  friends  had 
parted  with  tears  and  regrets,  and  here  they  had  met 
again  under  the  happiest  auspices.  And  the  presence 
of  their  beloved  instructress  and  her  husband  increased 
their  joy. 

In  a  state  of  delightful  confusion,  they  sat  down  to 
the  luxurious  supper-table,  over  which  Mrs.  May 
presided  with  placid  ease.  The  faithful  Ann  fluttered 
back  and  forth,  more  glad  than  she  had  ever  been 
before.  There  had  been  a  little  love  episode  in  her 


THE   BRIDAL.  245 

life ;  but,  her  lover  proving  recreant,  she  came  back 
to  her  old  home,  contented  to  serve  the  son  as  she  had 
the  father.  And  then  her  dear  Miss  Mina  was  to  live 
close  by,  and  be  married  to  Clint  Forrest,  her  old 
favorite.  So  many  joyful  things,  happening  all  at 
once,  made  the  girl  almost  beside  herself;  and,  to 
crown  all,  she  was  to  be  left  in  charge  of  the  man 
sion  while  the  young  couples  took  their  bridal  trip, 
for  Mrs.  May  was  to  accompany  them. 

After  tea,  the  merry  company  made  a  tour  of  the 
house.  Everything  was  in  order,  and  ready  for 
housekeeping.  Uncle  Ike  lingered  to  admire  the 
view  from  the  western  windows,  but  Elmina  hastened 
to  the  chamber  which  has  been,  spoken  of  as  her 
mother's  favorite  sitting-room.  Great  was  her  dis 
appointment  to  find  it  furnished  entirely  anew,  and 
wearing  so  different  an  aspect  that  she  could  hardly 
recognize  the  apartment  which  her  father  had  fitted 
up  expressly  for  her  mother,  and  after  her  death  had 
called  hers.  She  turned  away,  with  quivering  lip 
and  heaving  bosom.  Her  interest  in  examining  the 
house  was  lost,  while  the  rest  admired  this  or  that, 
and  laughed  and  chatted  to  their  Hearts'  content. 

A  beautiful  white  cottage  peeped  invitingly  through 
the  intervening  foliage,  and  upon  it  Elmina's  eye 
rested  longingly.  Clinton,  observing  her  abstraction, 
went  and  stood  by  her  side. 

"  Is  that  our  home,  Clint?"  she  whispered. 

"  Yes,  dearest.     Is  it  not  a  lovely  spot  ?  " 

"  Very  lovely  !  "  was  the  earnest  reply. 

"  Now,  Dr.  Frank,"  said  uncle  Ike,  u  we've  passed 
judgment  on  your  mansion,  and  you  must  lead  the 
Avay  to  the  establishment  of  our  young  lawyer.  Lucky 
people  this,  to  gain  in  one  day  two  such  talented 
young  mea  !  Undoubtedly,  in  five  years,  Dr.  Clem- 


246  THE   HARVEST   OF  LOVE. 

ent  and  lawyer  Forrest  will  be  the  leading  men  of 
the  place ! " 

"  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  fulfil  my  part  of  you* 
prophecy,"  said  Canton,  laughing. 

"  And  I,"  said  Frank.  "  must  play  my  cards  very 
badly,  not  to  gain  'some  influence.  My  father's  name 
is  better  than  a  fortune  to  me ;  for  the  people  here 
imagine  me  to  possess  all  his  virtues  and  abilities." 

"  So  it  seems  you  are  both  on  the  high-road  to 
fame,"  said  uncle  Ike.  "May  God  speed  you,  my 
young  aspirants ! " 

"  What  a  love  of  a  cottage !  "  thought  Elmina,  as 
they  came  in  full  view  ;  and  "  What  a  love  of  a  house  !  " 
was  echoed  by  all,  as-  they  entered  the  tasteful  abode. 
The  style  of  furniture,  coloring  of  carpets,  the  pic 
tures  gracing  the  walk,  and  the  arrangement  of  the 
flowing  curtains,  were  all  in  perfect  keeping.  An  air 
of  exquisite  taste  pervaded  the  whole.  While  stay 
ing  in  New  York,  Elmina  had  half  wished  she  could 
personally  superintend  the  arrangement  of  her  new 
home ;  but  now  she  was  satisfied  —  nay,  more  than 
satisfied,  delighted. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  uncle  Ike,  "Elmina  selected 
everything  in  New  York,  and  Clint  and  I  nailed  down 
the  carpets  and  brought  in  the  furniture  ;  but  it  is  to 
Miss  Dora's  fine  taste  and  skilful  fingers  that  the 
whole  house  owes  its  pleasing  appearance." 

Elmina  looked  her  gratitude,  as  she  affectionately 
pressed  Dora's  little  hand.  The  parlors  were  admired, 
the  pretty  little  library,  and  the  large  convenient 
kitchen ;  and  then  they  passed  up  stairs. 

"  This  is  my  beau  ideal  of  a  guest-chamber."  said 
Elmina,  looking  around  in  pleased  surprise.  "  And 
these  two  smaller  rooms-  are  as-  pretty  as  can  be. 
What,  is  there  another  large  chamber  ?  "  she  contin 
ued,  as  Dora  threw  open  the  door.  "  In  describ* 


THE   BRIDAL.  247 

ing  the  house,  Clinton,  I  thought  you  spoke  of  but 
three." 

She  entered  the  room,  and  the  first  glance  about 
her  brought  a  bright  sparkle  to  her  eye.  The  car 
pet,  the  chairs  and  table,  were  those  which  had  be 
longed  to  her  dear  mother's  chamber ;  her  little 
library,  work-stand,  and  even  the  rosewood  writing- 
desk,  were  all  in  their  proper  places.  Joyful,  grateful 
tears  swelled  in  Elmina's  eyes,  as  she  looked  from 
Frank  to  Dora,  and  from  Dora  to  Clinton,  who  were 
exchanging  significant  glances.  They  had  prepared 
a  pleasant  surprise  for  her.  She  fried  to  thank  them, 
but  her  voice  failed  her ;  she  sat  down  in  the  little  rock 
ing-chair  where  her  mother  had  often  sat,  and  Frank 
put  his  arm  about  her,  and  they  talked,  in  low  tones, 
of  the  dear  father  and  mother,  whose  spirits  they  felt 
were  rejoicing  in  their  happiness.  The  remainder  of 
the  company  considerately  left  the  brother  and  sister 
alone,  while  they  sauntered  about  the  garden-walks. 

Radiantly  dawned  the  bridal  morn.  The  rising  sun 
flung  such  a  flood  of  glory  through  the  parted  cur 
tains,  that  Dora  sprang  from  her  pillow  to  look  out 
upon  the  lovely  day. 

"  Wake,  Mina  !  "  she  cried  to  her  sleeping  friend ; 
"  the  sun  is  shining  gloriously  ;  the  birds  are  singing 
sweeter  than  I  ever  heard  before,  and  the  air  is  clearer 
and  softer  —  all  in  honor  of  our  bridal  morn  !  Wake, 
Mina  !  let  us  take  a  ramble  before  the  sun  kisses  tho 
dew  from  the  flowers,  or  the  birds  finish  their  morn 
ing  songs." 

Shortly,  the  two  maidens,  soon  to  step  from  maid 
enhood  into  the  holiest  relationship  of  life,  were  trip 
ping  up  the  green  hills,  and  dancing  through  the 
grove,  filling  their  hands  with  flowers,  and  their  hearts 
with  melody.  Nature  sang  a  new  song  to  them  on 
that  morn,  striking  a  deeper  and  a  tenderer  tone 


248  THE  HARVEST  OP  LOVE. 

Never  did  the  two  friends  look  more  lovely  than  when 
they  returned  with  their  dew- wet  flowers.  Exercise 
and  excitement,  with  the  deep  happiness  welling  up 
from  their  hearts,  combined  to  throw  an  irresistible 
charm  over  their  sparkling  faces. 

Frank  and  Clinton,  with  their  arms  passed  about 
each  other,  walked  out  to  meet  the  dear  girls.  The 
little  band  of  friends  was  united  once  more  with  un 
broken  links.  True,  love  had  sprung  up  luxuriantly 
in  each  young  heart,  but  it  could  not  overshadow  the 
tie  of  friendship  that  still  drew  them  all  together  in 
a  beautiful  union.  » 

They  were  married,  at  an  early  hour,  by  the  aged 
pastor  who  had  ministered  to  the  people  many  years. 
He  had  married  Dr.  Clement,  whom  he  much  loved 
and  respected,  and  now  he  performed  the  same  cere 
mony  for  his  son  and  daughter,  with  deep  emotion. 
It  was  a  touching  scene  —  that  white-haired  man 
standing  so  solemnly  before  the  blooming  couples, 
and  the  half-tearful,  half-smiling  attention  of  those 
friends  who  were  invited  to  witness  the  ceremony. 

"  What  God  hath  joined  together,  let  not  man 
put  asunder  !  " 

The  minister  bowed  his  head  in  silence.  Both 
couples  were  united  in  bonds  which  death  only  could 
divide. " 

There  was  a  momentary  hush,  while  the  beating 
hearts  grew  more  composed,  and  then  there  was  a 
perfect  shower  of  congratulations,  compliments  and 
good  wishes. 

Uncle  Ike  saluted  each  bride  with  a  kiss,  and  then 
the  wedding-cake  and  sparkling  water  were  served, 
'mid  such  pretty  sayings,  meaning  smiles  and  timely 
witticisms,  as  ever  constitute  the  after-piece  of  a 
wedding. 

Just  as  the  company  were  about  to  disperse,  the 


THE    BRIDAL.  249 

venerable  pastor,  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  circle, 
raised  his  hands  and  eyes  heavenward,  as  if  to  invoke 
a  benediction.  Every  tongue  was  mute,  and  every 
eye  turned  upon  their  revered  friend. 

' '  Holy  Father,  pour  thy  choicest  blessings  on  these 
young  people,  who  have  just  entered  the  bonds  of 
matrimony.  Bless  them  in  their  houses  and  stores ; 
bless  them  by  their  firesides,  and  in  the  outer  walks 
of  life !  Grant  that  the  mantles  of  the  parents  may 
descend  upon  the  children,  and  may  their  virtues  be 
the  watchword  of  their  lives  !  " 

"Amen  !  "  said  uncle  Ike. 

"  Amen  !  "  was  the  inaudible,  yet  fervent  response 
of  those  for  whom  the  blessing  was  breathed ;  and 
"  Amen  !  "  said  every  listening  heart. 

In  an  hour  the  bridal  party  set  out  on  their  pleas 
ure-excursion,  and  the  mansion  was  deserted  by  all 
save  the  faithful  domestic,  who  went  about  arranging 
the  disordered  parlors  with  a  cheerful  ditty  on  her 
lips. 

The  old  miser,  Wells,  was  dead ;  and  his  wife, 
whom  we  knew  of  old  as  Mrs.  James  Clement,  was 
frantic  —  not  with  grief  for  the  loss  of  her  husband, 
but  for  the  loss  of  property.  He  had  left  everything  to  a 
distant  cousin.  Thus  her  fearful  sacrifice  for  gold  was 
all  in  vain.  Without  a  single  friend  to  comfort  her, 
or  the  knowledge  of  her  own  virtue  to  console  her,  the 
spirit  of  Mrs.  Wells  was  prostrated  to  the  dust  by 
the  wild  storm  of  disappointment  and  adversity, 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

LAURETTA. 
"  Wealth  often  killeth,  where  want  but  hindereth  the  budding  " 

IN  order  to  alleviate  her  disappointment  and  cha 
grin,  Lauretta  Fay  plunged  into  the  dizziest  round  of 
fashionable  amusement.  She  dressed  more  expens 
ively  than  ever  before;  the  costliest  jewels  and 
finest  fabrics  were  scarce  worthy  to  deck  her  queenly 
person.  But  all  the  blandishments  of  wealth  and 
fashion  could  not  steal  away  the  inward  regret ;  her 
laugh  echoed  over  a  heart  weary  and  dissatisfied. 

A  leisure  hour  was  unbearable  to  her  who  had 
suffered  her  mind  to  remain  vacant,  while  she  merely 
sipped  the  bright  foam  of  superficial  accomplishments. 
She  lived  out  of  herself  as  much  as  possible.  She 
grew  more  exclusive,  more  fastidious  in  her  dress, 
more  aristocratic  and  heartless,  every  day. 

In  the  height  of  her  giddy  career,  when  the  rich 
sought  her  favor,  and  even  the  good  and  gifted  were 
dazzled  by  her  beauty,  the  bubble  of  fortune  burst. 
Horrified  at  this  unexpected  revolution  in  the  wheel 
of  fate,  poor  Lauretta  felt  as  if  wrecked  on  a  dismal 
shore,  Avith  a  wild  and  stormy  sea  rolling  between  her 
and  the  gay  world  she  so  loved. 

Ike  Lincoln  could  no  longer  conceal  from  his  ward 
the  fact  that  she  Avas  lavishing  an  imaginary  fortune, 
for  the  real  wealth  had  taken  itself  wings  and  flown 
away.  He  placed  three  thousand  dollars  in  her  hand, 

(250) 


LAURETTA.  251 

with  the  information  that  it  was  all  she  possessed 
except  her  wardrobe  and  jewels.  The  kind-hearted 
man  refrained  from  telling  her  that  he  took  the  three 
thousand  dollars  from  his  own  property,  after  settling 
her  unpaid  bills. 

Lauretta  spread  the  money  before  her.  gazing  upon 
it  with  distended  eyes.  Her  fortune,  which  she  had 
imagined  to  be  almost  inexhaustible,  was  suddenly 
contracted  within  the  compass  of  a  tfut-shell.  0,  what 
was  the  world  to  her  now  —  her  world  of  summer 
friends  ?  Often  had  she  passed  slightingly  by  those 
whom  fortune  had  deserted ;  and  now  it  was  her  turn 
to  shrink  from  the  coldly-averted  eye,  the  contempt 
uous  smile,  and,  worse  than  all,  the  utter  neglect  of 
those  whom  she  had  called  friends.  0,  it  was  a  hard 
lesson  for  the  proud  girl  ! 

She  could  not  endure  to  remain  in  the  city,  now 
that  she  could"  no  longer  appear  to  advantage  in  the 
gay  circles  where  she  had  shone  preeminent ;  there 
fore  she  resolved  to  retire  to  the  country.  Her  health 
and  spirits  were  at  the  lowest  ebb.  At  this  moment 
of  her  need  she  received  a  letter  from  Clinton  and 
Elmina,  with  a  cordial  and  pressing  invitation  to  visit 
them.  She  hesitated  but  for  a  moment,  for  she  was 
humbled,  and  felt  that  she  needed  just  such  kind  at 
tentions  and  advice  as  she  knew  she  should  receive 
under  their  roof. 

Our  friends  received  her  with  open  arms,  for  they 
were  filled  Avith  compassion  for  the  unfortunate  girl. 
No  reference  was  ever  made  to  aught  unpleasant  in 
the  past,  while  they  treated  her  as  a  beloved  friend. 
The  mighty  power  of  kindness  overcame  the  pride 
and  selfishness  in  Lauretta's  heart,  and  she  acknowl 
edged,  with  penitential  tears,  that  she  had  received 
good  for  evil. 

At  first  Lauretta  suffered  in  the  daily  presence  of 


252  THE   HAKVEST   OF  LOVE. 

Clinton,  and  in  beholding  his  tenderness  for  his  bride ; 
but  in  time  this  feeling  wore  away,  and  a  better  and 
wiser  one  took  its  place.  She  began  to  feel  pleasure 
in  the  joy  of  others.  Ere  long  she  was  fully  domes 
ticated  in  this  happy  home,  which  seemed  an  ark  of 
peace  to  her  worn  spirit. 

Lauretta  was  not  entirely  heartless.  There  was  a 
spring  of  womanly  worth  in  her  bosom,  which  was 
hidden  by  the  rubbish  of  false  education,  and  the  glit 
ter  of  outward  display.  Now  the  force  of  circum 
stances  turned  her  thoughts  within,  and  the  slumbering 
good  was  found;  warm  and  true  feelings  bubbled 
forth,  refreshing  withered  virtues,  and  reviving  forgot 
ten  resolves. 

Elmina  perceived  with  pleasure  this  radical  change 
in  Lauretta,  and,  by  her  advice  and  example,  assisted 
her  much.  Lauretta  was  surprised  that  she  could  be 
so  happy  in  a  quiet  country  home ;  she  sang  over  her 
sewing ;  and  the  cool  grove  and  singing  birds  oft 
wooed  her  out  to  learn  a  lesson  of  nature.  Nature  is 
a  sacred  teacher ;  its  influence  was  most  blessed  on 
the  gay  belle,  whose  perceptions  of  the  pure  and 
beautiful  were  just  springing  into  life.  When  six 
months  had  passed,  she  acknowledged  that,  in  the 
height  of  her  gay  city  career,  she  had  never  been 
as  happy  as  now.  She  ceased  to  regret  the  loss  of 
wealth,  since  she  had  gained  what  was  more  desirable, 
health  and  quiet  happiness.  She  now  had  time  to 
cultivate  her  mind,  and  she  soon  found  a  new  occupa 
tion  and  delight ;  the  fountains  of  knowledge  were 
unsealed  to  her. 

In  time  Lauretta  Fay  became  very  unlike  herself 
of  old.  The  haughty  expression  of  her  face  was  ex 
changed  for  one  of  cheerfulness,  and  she  was  affec 
tionate  and  companionable.  This  transformation  was 
not  effected  without  many  struggles  and  prayers. 


LAURETTA.  253 

She  would  sometimes  repine  and  despond  ;  sometimes 
speak  scornfully  to  her  dearest  friends  ;  and  often 
her  proud  ways  would  send  away  in  disgust  those 
who  would  gladly  have  loved  her.  But  she  viewed 
life  from  a  new  platform ;  she  perceived  her  moral 
obligations,  and  had  a  sincere  desire  to  elevate  her 
character.  She  persevered.  Preconceived  prejudices 
gradually  loosened  their  hold  upon  her  mind,  and,  :mid 
all-ennobling  influences,  she  became  gentle  and  loving. 
She  persevered,  and  the  victory  was  hers  —  a  glorious 
victory,  even  the  conquering  of  self. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

THE  lights  and  shadows  of  twelve  years  have 
thrown  their  changeful  web  over  human  life,  and  we 
lift  the  curtain  again  to  bid  adieu  to  the  characters  of 
our  tale. 

A  country  farm-house  is  now  the  home  of  Mrs. 
Wells.  A  comfortable  room  is  allotted  to  her  use, 
and  the  farmer's  kind  wife  attends  faithfully  to  all  her 
wants.  Yet  she  is  lonely.  No  love-tone  makes 
music  through  the  untuned  strings  of  her  heart,  and 
no  touch  of  affection  smooths  the  wrinkles  on  her 
brow.  Alone  and  unloved,  she  is  passing  down  the 
declivity  of  life.  Premature  age  bows  her  form  and 
streaks  her  dark  locks  with.  gray.  She  is  dependent 
upon  the  bounty  of  Clinton  Forrest.  His  generosity 
provides  her  a  comfortable  home.  Yes,  he,  who  when 
a  boy  she  ill-treated  and  despised,  came  to  her  in  her 
poverty,  and  saved  her  from  the  almshouse.  She 
feels  the  galling  weight  of  dependence,  but  no  grati 
tude  softens  her  heart.  Sometimes  Elmina  comes 
like  a  sunbeam,  with  her  sweet  words  and  smile,  but 
Mrs.  Wells  is  too  wretched,  too  much  absorbed  in  her 
deserved  calamities,  to  reply  only  with  peevish  com 
plaints. 

James  Clement  is  a  drunkard;  and  his  wretched 
mother  sadly  contrasts  his  fate  with  that  of  his 
favored  cousin  Frank,  but  is  all  unconscious  that  her 

(264) 


CONCLUSION.  255 

own  weakness  and  folly  sowed  in  childhood  the  seeds 
of  the  harvest  she  is  reaping  now. 

In  a  fair  southern  home,  where  every  breeze  is 
redolent  with  perfume,  and  wealth  and  taste  combine 
to  beautify,  dwell  the  happy  Arlington  and  sweet 
Fannie  Gay,  now  his  wife  and  the  mother  of  two 
blooming  children. 

And  would  you  hear  a  word  of  Lauretta  Fay  ? 
She  is  the  queen  of  an  humble,  but  happy  home.  A 
worthy  man  has  won  her  to  himself,  and  she  reigns 
more  proudly  in  his  heart  than  ever  in  the  gay 
circles  of  fashion. 

A  fair  and  stately  young  matron,  dignified,  yet 
cordial.  Her  cottage-home  is  sought  by  the  gifted 
and  true.  Little  children  offer  her  flowers  and  look 
wonderingly  upon  her  beauty.  The  suffering  and 
needy  rejoice  in  her  gentle  charities,  and  many  an 
invalid's  eye  brightens  at  the  tones  of  her  voice.  Her 
husband  folds  her  to  his  heart  and  blesses  her ;  and 
the  tiny  one  blossoming  by  her  side,  clings  fondly  to 
her. 

Can  this  be  Lauretta  Fay  ? 

Ay.  The  proud  belle  is  metamorphosed  into  the 
tender  wife  and  mother ;  the  fashionable  lady  into  a 
true  woman.  It  is  a  beautiful  change.  Once  happi 
ness  was  as  a  gilded  air-bubble  to  her  vision  ;  now  it 
has  a  tangible  hold  on  all  the  springs  of  life. 

Uncle  Ike's  prophecy  is  now  fulfilled :  Frank 
Clement  and  Clinton  Forrest  are  the  leading  men  in 
the  place.  The  present  high  moral  and  intellectual 
tone  of  the  community  is  owing  very  much  to  the 
united  labors  of  these  energetic  young  men. 

Frank  has  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  his  excellent 
father,  and  he  wears  high  honors  in  his  profession. 
And  his  home.  —  0,  it  is  a  happy  one  !  Dora's 
smile  is  as  bright  as  in  her  girlish  days,  and  her  spirit 


256  THE   HARVEST    OF   LOVE. 

as  blithe  and  gay  as  ever.  Is  her  husband's  brow 
clouded  ?  how  quickly  her  voice  dispels  the  shadows  ! 
Is  he  weary  and  depressed?  how  she  charms  him 
into  forgetfulness  of  all  save  her  love  ! 

Clinton  Forrest  does  not  look  upon  his  profession 
merely  as  a  road  to  wealth  and  eminence,  but  he 
regards  it  as  a  responsible  office,  which,  if  honorably 
filled,  will  elevate  himself  and  those  for  whom  he 
labors.  Eight  and  Truth  are  his  motto.  He  adjusts 
petty  quarrels  with  his  kindly  advice  as  a  Christian 
man.  But  when  the  poor,  the  wronged  and  oppressed, 
need  him,  his  heart  is  fired  with  zeal  and  his  tongue 
with  eloquence.  Elmina  is  the  light  of  his  home,  the 
star  of  his  heart.  Her  voice  is  still  dearer  to  him 
than  the  world's  praises,  and  her  love  more  treasured 
than  the  wreath  of  fame. 

Some  tears  have  they  shed.  Flowers  blossom  on 
the  grave  of  a  loved  one ;  their  beautiful  first-born  is 
given  back  into  the  keeping  of  a  Holy  Father.  But 
their  little  Bertie  still  smiles  upon  them,  and  makes 
music  for  their  hearts. 

Despite  the  clouds  which  drift  across  the  sunniest 
summer's  sky,  —  despite  the  thorns  which  will  spring 
where  roses  grow,  —  our  friends  are  walking  joyfully 
the  path  of  life.  Honor  and  peace  dwell  with  them, 
and  love,  unaltered  and  undimmed,  burns  brightly  in 
each  heart. 


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